


Stuttering

by Crazyhotsoup



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan has anger issues, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Heartache, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Muteness, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Social Anxiety, Stuttering, The reader has anger issues, but i'm different, rip to rockstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:41:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24925564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazyhotsoup/pseuds/Crazyhotsoup
Summary: On fucking hold until I can stomach writing againSocial Anxiety, that's what the psychiatrists called it in the asylum, the reason for you clamming up and not being able to get a single word out without the world's worst stutter. You hadn't planned on joining up with a gang again, but Charles had convinced you to give it another chance. The gang has taken to calling you 'Wolf' because you often sit back and observe, not to mention a peculiar set of scars.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan & Reader
Comments: 27
Kudos: 148





	1. Damned are the Meek

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [In Praise of Silence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24603184) by [CaptainNautical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainNautical/pseuds/CaptainNautical). 



> Hey there! I'm sorry to everyone rereading this, wondering what the hell is happening. I am completely redoing my story. I originally killed Micah, but I realized that I can't end it the way I want to if he's not alive. So, here I am rewriting 17,000 words, give or take. Large portions can stay the same, but I'm just gonna reupload cause it's easier that way for me. There are going to be some significant changes, but a lot is the same. 
> 
> 08/10

"Hey, Wolf." You looked up from where you were sitting just outside of camp. John was limping towards you, a stupid drunk grin plastered on his face. You scooted so he could sit next to you and lean against the boulder. John let out a groan as he lowered himself into the soil next to you. The second the man sat down, a wave of whiskey washed over your senses. John fucking stank. You idly braided pieces of grass and listened to him complain about Abigail and 'the boy'. You weren't unfamiliar with the roll, a mute isn't a good conservationist, but they're usually a fantastic listener. It became your informal duty to listen to other's drunken ramblings or seething complaints. 

John went into surprising detail about his feelings towards the woman and you nodded along when he turned towards you. You pawed at yourself searching for your pack of cigarettes and frowned when you didn't find it. John pulled his box out of his pocket and handed you one. He placed another between his lips and continued to talk around the roll as he lit a match. Both of you leaned towards the flame and John shook it out once your cigarettes were sporting bright cherries. A loud laugh broke through the somewhat peaceful scene and Bill came stomping towards you. 

"With you two we might have enough wolf bait to catch a whole pack." John made to push himself to his feet and you wrapped a scarred hand around his arm. He glanced at you and, after a pleading look, sank back down onto the ground. Bill laughed and made jabbing comments until Grimshaw found him and ordered him away. Your cigarette long gone, you slipped your hand inside your coat and found the flask that lived there. You unscrewed the lid and took a swig of the sweet moonshine inside. You offered the flask to John and he swallowed a mouthful. 

"Fuck, Wolf, How do you drink this shit?" You frowned and grabbed for the flask. John moved his arm out of your reach and you let out a huff. "Now, now, I didn't say I didn't like it." You rolled your eyes and watched as he took another swig. He handed the flask back to you and you did the same. You screwed the lid on and returned it to your coat. 

"Wolf." You turned your head at the word and saw Charles standing behind the boulder. "Dutch needs you." You waved a 'goodbye' to John and followed Charles towards Dutch's tent. Dutch was sitting in his chair shooting the breeze with Arthur when you walked up. Dutch clapped his hand on your shoulder and opened his mouth, preparing to ask you whatever it was that he needed when Lenny came flying into camp. 

"They got Micah." You turned in surprise at the sudden exclamation as he nearly fell from Maggie. "Dutch, Arthur, Wolf." Dutch rose from his seat and you followed him towards Lenny. 

"What's going on?" You caught Arthur's eye and he huffed. 

"They got Micah." Lenny nearly tripped for a second time during his rushed entrance as he stumbled towards you. "He's, He's been arrested for murder. He was in Strawberry and..." Arrested? You felt a wave of sick satisfaction wash over you at the words. Micah had been a splinter in your side from the moment you joined the gang. Every chance he got he would make comments and ask if 'you had _unnatural_ preferences'. You had to resist the urge to tear out his throat more times than you'd like to count. 

"It's ok, son, breathe." Lenny heaved in a gasping breath and doubled over to rest his hands on his knees. Miss O'Shea made eye contact with you and she looked just about how you imagined yourself to look. 

"They nearly lynched me." Your nostrils flared and your gaze was drawn to the Arthur's tightly clenched fist. "They, they got Micah in the sheriff's in Strawberry and there's talk of hanging him." You heard Arthur let out a small laugh and he released his fist. 

"Here's hoping." You bit back a laugh as Dutch gaped at Arthur, obviously appalled that he would make a comment like that. 

"Arthur." You felt your stomach convulse as you swallowed down another bout of laughter. Arthur turned towards Dutch and wore an expression something akin to an innocent just informed they were to be hanged. 

"What?" Arthur shifted as he spoke. "The fool brought this on himself. You know my feelings about him Dutch." Arthur's tone changed as he spoke the second sentence. It went serious and steely. 

"You think I can't see past his bluster to the heart inside?" You frowned at the words. Micah wasn't all talk, he was dangerous. You had watched him kill innocents just for fun. It wasn't in 'kind' ways either, he took obvious pleasure in their pain. 

"He is a fine man." You clenched your jaw and watched as Arthur turned away from your leader. 

"No, I ain't saving that fool." Arthur waved his hand by his head as if he could deflect Dutch's hard stare. 

"I can't go." Dutch raised his voice and gestured in the vague direction of Strawberry. "My face will be all over West Elizabeth." Arthur rolled his eyes. 

"I am asking. He would do it for you." Arthur looked ready to bite Dutch's head off. He just shook his head. 

"I don't think he would, but fine, alright." Dutch glanced towards you and you offered a small smile. 

"Take Wolf with ya, they need to get out of camp more anyways." Arthur just waved his hand and walked towards Lenny. You knew why Dutch told him to take you along. He didn't trust the man not to let Micah hang. You guessed he was right about one thing, you did need to get out of camp. After catching a bullet in Blackwater you had been laid up for the majority of your time in Colter. You had only been allowed to leave once they needed someone to go hunting. After getting off the mountain, it hadn't been much better. 

"You alright Lenny?" He was leaning on his thighs at the 'main' table. You slipped into place next to Arthur. Lenny's eyes darted between the two of you. 

"Yeah, course I'm okay." You shifted where you were standing and Arthur leaned against the table. 

"You don't seem okay." You rolled your eyes at the statement. Arthur had likely never had the pleasure of nearly being hanged. It wasn't something you got over quick, even if it was just a notion. 

"You take that kid into town." Dutch cut through the calm. You had forgotten Dutch was even there. "Valentine, not Strawberry...Get him drunk, and Arthur, No crazy business." Arthur set his face and waved off the jab. 

"I've given that up." You knew that was the farthest thing from the truth. In every town the gang camped near, Arthur would make his way into the nearest saloon and get himself piss drunk. He would cause a commotion and catch an earful from Hosea, but he never caused any real trouble. Not like Bill did. 

"And you two get Micah out of that Jail." Dutch's voice was stern and you felt like a child who was being scolded. Dutch only used that voice for serious situations. He turned away from you and slipped back inside his tent. Arthur's shoulders slumped and he huffed. For a moment you could imagine a younger Arthur. One that had messed up a score, or disappointed one of his surrogate fathers somehow. You felt sorry for him but didn't make a move to try to comfort him. You had learned the hard way that the muscle of the group didn't like to be doted over, especially in public. 

"Come on, son." Arthur patted Lenny's shoulder as he stood. 

"We'll get to it, Dutch," and then almost too quiet for you to hear as he approached his horse. "Just can't drop everything." Arthur mounted his horse and looked around. He frowned at you where you were still standing by the table. 

"You comin'?" Your eyes widened and you nearly ran to mount your horse. The gray dappled thoroughbred, Rusher, whickered at the sudden weight in his saddle but didn't protest further when you patted a hand against his neck. Once Arthur saw you were situated on your horse, he kicked his fox-trotter into a gallop. 

"I rode as fast as I could, didn't stop for nothing." You followed behind Lenny, not bothering to pay attention to their conversation as you rode into town. 

"...Micah's got a crazy side, Arthur." Your attention was drawn back to the conversation at mention of the blonde man. You ushered your horse into position next to Maggie and Lenny turned his head. You nodded in agreement and Lenny let out a triumphant 'A-ha'. "Even Wolf agrees with me." 

"What were you boys doing?" You could guess. Micah probably thought it would be funny to strangle someone, or maybe shoot at their feet to watch 'em dance. "You're supposed to be scouting ahead for us." 

"I kept asking him what we was doing, but he was "you worry too much, kid", "just got some business to attend to, kid", you know how he is." You rolled your eyes. You were 'kid' to him as well. He had taken to calling you wolfie once he realized how much it bothered you. 

"He was half-soaked before we even got there." That wasn't surprising. Micah had a nasty habit of getting mean when he was drunk. 

"Then we ran into fellers, one of them Micah knew, drank some more...and this is supposed to be a dry town were in too." Arthur huffed. 

"And then he shoots one of them, I know how that goes." You had been in that situation once or twice. You were a drifter before you met Dutch, ran with quite a few gangs. One of them happened to be with Charles and when he saw you again you got to 'talking'. He introduced you to Dutch. You hadn't planned to stay with his gang for so long. It was easier to drift, relationships and people getting too involved made you skittish. 

"Couldn't even tell ya quite how. It happened like a strike of a match. The law was on us fast too. They was ready to string me up there and then, but I got away, just about." You shook your head, trying to clear away the memories that were bubbling up. 

"You're alright now. We'll take care of it." You weren't sure about that, but you weren't given the chance to dwell on it much longer as you entered Valentine. Valentine smelled like cow shit, Livestock towns always did. You wrinkled your nose at the smell but continued to follow behind. 

"So you're gonna go get him? I'll come with you two." Arthur chuckled and turned the corner. 

"Nah, you leave it to us. For now, let's drink something, forget about Micah." Forget about Micah, that was always a welcome notion. 

"It was drink that started all this." Lenny sounded uneasy. 

"We'll just have a couple, settle you down, then head back. Okay?" A couple was a good idea, until it turned into twenty and then next thing you know, somebody is getting choked out. 

"Okay." Lenny still sounded shaky, but more confident about the situation.

"Now, I should warn you, me and a couple of the other boys got into a bit of a fight last time we was here." You had heard about the barfight, Bill had come back all busted up and sporting a black eye. You tethered your horse next to Arthur's and followed the pair inside. 

The night was a blur, a couple of drinks turned into too many. Arthur stumbled around the saloon, shouting and laughing and singing. You mostly sat near the pianist and swayed to his music. You watched as Arthur and Lenny line danced with quite a few of the working girls and other patrons. You stumbled out of the bar after them once they decided it was time to take it elsewhere. The lawmen had caught Lenny, but Arthur scrambled away from them around the corner. When they asked you if you were with them you raised your hands in a surrender and shook your head. The sheriff was satisfied with his one prisoner and you made your way towards the horses. You untethered Rusher and Arthur's fox-trotter and followed the sound of his drunken screaming. He missed Horseshoe and made his way towards Flatneck Station. You snorted when you finally found him collapsed in the dirt underneath a tree. Since he was far too heavy for you to pick up, you planted yourself nearby and prepared to spend the night guarding him. 

Arthur let out a quiet groan and you looked up from your journal. He let out a louder grunt and leaned up, head swiveling. 

"Oh, you moron, Morgan." Arthur groaned and rubbed at his eyes. You folded your journal closed and watched him push himself to his feet. 

"You moron," The words came out strained as he stood up. "Not again." He stumbled backward and you placed your journal in your satchel. Arthur still hadn't noticed you in his hungover state. Arthur walked about two feet before swaying and doubling over. With a grimace, you listened as he puked. After he was finished, he dramatically swayed. You grabbed his arm before he could fall into his own sick. At the contact, Arthur's hand shot towards his gun and you stepped back with your hands up in a surrender. 

"Jesus, Wolf, you trying to get yourself shot?" You rolled your eyes and dug in your satchel for something to give him to eat. Your hand came across a half-eaten piece of bread. You offered the crusty bit of food to Arthur and he accepted it with a 'thank you'. You whistled for the horses and they came trotting over. 

"You brought my Llamrei?" You furrowed your brow and he let out a grunt. "The horse?" That's what he had named the horse? You shrugged your shoulders and Arthur walked over to her. He offered her a handful of oats he fished out of his pocket before mounting her. You followed suit and Arthur grumbled to himself before taking a drink out of his canteen. 

"You wanna head out now?" You just shrugged again and he took another swig. 

"Alright, no time like the present I guess." He kicked his horse into a gallop and took the road down the hill. Rusher whinnied when you went through the river but didn't try to buck you. Arthur kept muttering to himself as you got closer to Strawberry. 

"I never liked the bastard, you know that?" He turned his head as he spoke. You nodded and he huffed. "There's something off with him." You slowed your horses as you got to town. The sounds of civilization filled your ears and you followed Arthur down the street. Outside of the sheriff's office you tethered your horse and watched as he did the same.

"Right, we'll go inside, and I'll ask around a bit." You nodded and followed Arthur into the sheriff's office.

It was about what you expected. A parsley furnished room with two desks and a bench. Three men were inside the small room.

"Yep?" The sheriff's eyes darted between the two of you. You nodded at the men and stepped into the room behind Arthur.

"We've come from Blackwater," You glanced at Arthur. "We're on the trail of a dangerous gang, Colm O'Driscoll. Heard you boys had some of incident." Arthur stepped towards the sheriff and you turned to look at one of the deputies.

"We don't deal with bounty hunters round here, folks." The sheriff didn't even spare a glance as he spoke, turning back to his writings.

"I, I was just wondering if we could get a description." That must've got the sheriff's attention. He turned in his seat, nickel star glinting in the light.

"Well they weren't friends. They got in a fight," The deputies shifted behind you. "Two men got killed. Now one of 'em's an idiot, the other's some kind of dumb mick, so maybe them's your boys. You can look right enough, when we hang 'em." You clenched your jaw and glanced towards Arthur. The man looked just as frustrated. He glanced around the room, before walking past you.

"Thank you, sheriff." You nodded to the deputies and slipped out the door after the man.

The second the door shut behind you, Arthur kicked at the muddy street. It had started raining while you were inside, so along with the lack of information, every god damn thing was wet.

"What the hell are we gonna do now?" Arthur placed his hands on his hips and shook his head at the sheriff's office.

"Let me outta here, you maggots!" You scrunched your eyes shut and shook your head. God damn Micah Bell was where Lenny had said he would be. Arthur glanced at you before hopping down and walking around the side of the building.

In the stone wall, there was a barred window no doubt leading into the holding cell of the office. You followed Arthur and peered in the dark window.

"Arthur? Wolfie?" His bloodied hands shot up to grab onto the metal bars. You frowned at the sight of the man.

"Hello, old friend. Had a good time, did you?" He leaned against the stone wall, while you sat down on a crate next to the window.

"You two gonna get me outta here?" Arthur sighed. Instead of echoing him, you dug around in your satchel for your flask.

"We ain't decided yet." You leaned in closer to the man and nearly gagged. Micah's face was covered in a smattering of bruises.

"Real funny." You wanted more than anything to leave the bastard to hang, but Dutch gave an order.

"Oh, I ain't joking, cowpoke." Micah's lip quivered and he adjusted his grip on the bars.

"I heard so much bluster out of your mouth these last six months", Arthur walked up to the bars, and looked into Micah's face. "And now I got an opportunity to watch you be silenced." Micah's eyes darted towards you. You just shrugged and took another swig of moonshine.

"Well you gotta do something." Arthur leaned back from the bars as Micah spat the words.

"Why?" Micah croaked out a near sob and you rolled your eyes. He was no doubt going to spew some bullshit.

"I always looked up to you, Arthur." You frowned at the words and tucked your flask back into your satchel.

"Well that's your first mistake." He let go of the bars and stepped back. "Listen, there's one little problem. There's only two of us, and there's a whole town of people wanting to see you swing."

"You gotta do something, Arthur, Wolfie." You bristled at the nickname, but Arthur just shook his head and glanced around the alleyway. After a groan, you stood and walked towards him.

At first, Micah had asked if you were going to blow the bars out. You rolled your eyes, and Arthur simply ignore him. Instead, he made his way towards a steam donkey that was stated behind a stack of crates.

You walked the hook towards the bars, and sneered at Micah as you hooked it onto them. After jiggling it, you gave Arthur a thumbs up.

He braced his feet in the slippery mud, and grunted as he pulled the lever. You watched as the machine came to life and ripped the bars free from the window. The whole ordeal took half the wall with it.

Micah coughed as he crawled out of the cell, and you immediately regretted helping him.

Arthur jogged towards you, and handed Micah an extra gun. You watched as the man spun around and shot the O'Driscoll that had tried to clamber out after him.

"What the hell are you doing?" You looked down the alley and out into the street. In a matter of seconds, no doubt the whole town would come running.

"He was an O'Driscoll." A bullet whipped past you, and you ducked. The sheriff and his deputies had come running out of the office toting guns. Arthur pulled you into cover and you fumbled for your revolver.

The three men were finished off quickly, but more townsfolk emerged from the buildings. You followed after Micah as he shot countless men. He crossed over the first bridge and slipped down a pathway. It surprised you how many of Strawberry's residents were so quick to run into the line of fire.

"Where we going?" Arthur sounded just as frustrated as you were over the whole ordeal.

"What're you doing?" You watched as Micah aimed at another man and pulled the trigger.

"Making a house call." Arthur glanced at you and you shook your head. Freeing Micah had not been a good idea.

"We really should be leaving." Micah just kept running towards the house.

"Calm yourself, woman. Like I said, I need to see someone." You glanced at Arthur before slipping back into cover.

Micah repeatedly shouted for someone named Skinny. Once the door to the house opened, he grabbed the figure and shot 'em, pushing his way inside. The man he shot laid gurgling on the front porch as he did god knows what inside the house. Micah emerged, brandishing a gunbelt.

"They had something of mine," He drew his pistols. "My guns." You felt anger bubble up inside of you. Typically, you weren't a mean-hearted person. Killing people never really bothered you, if you had a reason, but Micah had just dragged you through a town, and killed far more folks than he had to, for a pair of pistols. You clenched your jaw and started across the second bridge.

With one more glance behind you, you pulled yourself into Rusher's saddle. Micah laughed as you followed him out of the town. You felt guilt bubble up inside as you aimed at more of the men.

You kept riding until you were well away from the town.

"That was some good shooting from the both of you, I'll tell you that." You just shook your head and slipped your revolver back into its holster.

"What the hell was that back there?" Arthur spurred his horse next to Baylock.

"Got a bit wild alright." You scoffed and looked at the rocky hills.

"Wild? Making a house call in the middle of all that?" Arthur seemed to share the same sentiment that you did.

"Ain't much I care about more than these guns." You heard Arthur scoff.

"That much is clear." Arthur's voice went serious. "Who was that fella?"

"Skinny? Yeah we ran together for a while. Did a bank job down south, didn't end well." You wondered just what Micah's definition of 'well' was.

"I saw how it goddamn ended."

"He was gonna let me hang." You smiled at the thought. Micah hanging from some scaffolding was just about all you wanted to see of the bastard.

"I'm starting to wish I had, and you owe Lenny, too. If he hadn't found us in time-" Micah cut him off before he could finish.

"Yes, you will all be thanked profusely, I promise." You shook your head. Anything that came from Micah, was bad news.

"You're lucky Dutch has got your back, for some unknown reason." Micah went silent at that, and you continued to ride your horses through the rocky terrain.

Once reached a crossroads, Micah finally pulled Baylock to a halt.

"I think we finally lost 'em." Arthur shook his head and you ran your tongue over your bottom lip.

"Well I hope so." Micah held out a holster and Arthur snatched it out of his hands.

"Arthur, I'm giving you this holster, as a way of saying thank you." He turned his attention towards you and you felt your skin crawl. "Maybe I can find some _other_ way of saying thank you to you later, Wolfie." Arthur cleared his throat.

"And thank you. There I was, having a dull day only for you to liven it up by having me shoot up half a goddamn town." Micah chuckled and you rolled your eyes.

"You're a funny feller, Arthur. Real funny. Why you act all sour all the time?" Arthur leaned towards him and frowned.

"Yeah, well you ain't funny at all, so why you gotta act like the court jester?" Micah ignored him.

"We're family now, Arthur. You and me and Wolfie. Sons of Dutch, makes us brothers, and sometimes brothers make mistakes. Now I'm heading back to my little camp round back of Strawberry, come see me, maybe I can make things up to you." Arthur frowned at the blonde.

"You ain't heading ack to Dutch?" You hoped he would never come back.

"No, I've been a bad boy, Arthur. I ain't seeing Dutch till I can bring him a peace offering." Micah winked at you before turning Baylock away. You rolled your eyes and looked towards Arthur. He just shook his head.

"Damn bastard." He let out a sigh and looked at you. "You wanna ride back with me?" You nodded and he started in the direction of camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if you were happy about me killing Micah, but I had to undo it for the plot :(


	2. A Loan Shark and A Strong Arm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strauss takes wolf Loansharking 
> 
> 08/11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've read this before, it's almost the same as the original chapter

Dutch had taken the news as expected. He wasn't happy that Micah was avoiding him, but he was glad the bastard was still alive. After Arthur had slipped away, Dutch had clapped you on the shoulder and thanked you. The whole thing had been more gracious than he had been with Arthur and you were still very uncomfortable. 

You slipped away from Dutch and sat down next to the fire. 

Micah being alive was something that immensely brought you down. If you had been late, or you had left the bastard to rot, you wouldn't have to deal with him. Instead, you had to deal with comments from the man. You were one of the gang's more intimidating members, so little comments from Micah, were the least of your worries, but you still couldn't help but feel uncomfortable anytime he spoke to you. 

You shook the thoughts from your head and turned your attention away from the orange flames. You dug through your pocket until your fingers brushed against the half-carved figurine of a wolf. You removed your hunting knife from its sheath and started in on the legs. The wolf's head wasn't as detailed as you would've liked, but that wasn't your focus. You started the toy before Blackwater. Jack used to have a horse carving, but it had been broken at some point. You had found the boy crying by himself and you saw the broken figurine sitting in his little hands. After pointing to it, he asked if you would make him a new toy. You nodded and next week was spent looking for a piece of quality apple.

"Wolf, may I speak with you for a moment?'" The unmistakable voice of Strauss called to you from across the camp. You brushed off a curl of wood and placed the little figure back in your satchel. You sighed and stood from your seat by the fire. You knew why Strauss wanted to speak with you. His money lending business was lucrative and he often asked you to accompany him on outings. He was a vile man but his threats could only get him so far without physical prowess. Strauss was sitting by his wagon, calculating expenses and looking over the ledger. He looked up at you and closed his books with a shark-like grin.

"Will you accompany me on a trip? We're only visiting one of my borrowers today, so it shouldn't take too long." You shrugged and rubbed a hand over your mouth. He stood and smiled. "Excellent, come find me by the horses once you're ready."

You nodded and started towards your tent. You stepped inside the canvas walls and tied them shut behind you. The first thing to go was your coat. You draped the black duster over your bedroll and unbuttoned your vest and shirt. Your suspenders hung loosely by your sides as you shrugged on your red pinstriped shirt and buttoned it up. After rolling up the sleeves to leave your scars exposed, you tied your bandana around your neck and retrieved your flask from your coat. You took a swig and slipped it inside your satchel. You flicked your twin pistols open, checking if they were fully loaded and slipped out of your tent.

As Strauss had promised, he was standing by the horses. Rusher whickered as you approached the horses. You weren't overly fond of his name, but he was a good steed. John, who is notoriously bad at naming horses and which was entirely unknown to you at the time, was the one that named him. He had originally tried to call the horse Glue but you adamantly protested it and he decided instead on Rusher. Strauss was holding the reigns of a Morgan that he borrowed from the camp from time to time. You gave his horse a once over and tightened a couple of straps before mounting Rusher.

Strauss turned down a road and you laid your eyes on a small farmhouse. A red barn proudly stood in the distance and Strauss slowed his horse. You swung down from your horse and Strauss turned towards you.

"If Mr. Downes resists, then your services will be needed." You nodded and he started towards the farmer.

"Thomas Downes?" The farmer dropped his hoe and backed towards the opposite side of the fence. Strauss walked through the small gate into the vegetable garden. You followed behind him.

"You owe us a lot of money." Strauss's voice went cold and you felt the hairs on the nape of your neck prickle. Strauss was surprisingly intimidating when he wanted to be. Mr. Downes shook in his boots and let out a wet cough. He floundered for a second before backing away further.

"Mr. Strauss, I wasn't expecting to see you so soon." He was stalling. Strauss took a step closer and you stood just behind him to his right. Thomas's eyes darted towards your arms and you knew he was looking at the thick scars that ran over them.

"Yes, well, we've come to collect and I would like to receive my money promptly." Thomas wiped at his forehead with a darkly stained handkerchief and you glowered at him.

"We had a bad winter, Mr. Strauss, if we could only have a little more time." Strauss let out a little sigh and shook his head.

"We all had a bad winter, Mr. Downes. You have two options here, Me or my associate, and we aren't leaving until we have the promised money." He wiped more vigorously at his face and you sucked your teeth. The man was stepping on every one of your nerves he came across.

"Please, I, We don't have very much right now and just a little more time would-" Strauss cut Mr. Downes off with a wave of his hand. He nodded towards you and you grabbed Mr. Downes. The thin man cried out as your fist collided with his face. You easily knocked him off his feet and fisted one hand in his collar, the other held up threateningly.

"Mr. Downes, you have one last chance here, before I turn my back. Now I won't hurt you but I can't control what my friends do." Thomas let out another wet cough and you clenched your jaw.

"Thomas!" You heard a woman's voice call from behind you. You glared down at Mr. Downes.

"It's alright Edith, just go back inside." You turned your head and watched as the woman unsteadily retreated.

"So what will it be Mr. Downes?" Strauss loomed over the pair of you and Thomas shook in your grasp.

"Please, my family will starve if you-" Your vision became a red haze as you slammed your fist into his face. Why couldn't he just hand over the money? Didn't he know that he was just going to cause himself more trouble by putting up this 'fight'? Your hand ached and you heard a wet thump with each swing. The man in your grasp sagged and you stopped the assault. Mr. Downes let out a sputtering cough and you scrunched your eyes shut. Speckles of spit sprayed your face and you wiped your bloody hand down it. You sneered at the man below you and you heard that damned woman cry out once again. You dropped the limp man to the ground and turned towards her. The woman looked hysterical and you glanced at Strauss. He gestured towards her and you gripped her shoulder. She tried to look around you at Mr. Downes, but you kept her firmly in place as Strauss spoke.

"Mrs. Downes, I assume? Your husband owes us a substantial debt, and it would be in both of our best interests for you to retrieve the money you have." You gave her shoulder a firm squeeze and fixed her with a hard stare. You had no intention of hitting a defenseless woman, but you had a show to put on.

"You'll leave us alone if I get what's owed to you?" You saw Strauss smile out of the corner of your eye at her words.

"Yes, you'll never hear from us again, and your poor husband will be left alone." She glanced at her husband again and her shoulders slumped.

"Alright, I'll, I'll go get it." You released her shoulder and she scampered towards her house. You turned towards Strauss and saw that he was wearing a dark grin.

"Well, I think today has been very lucrative." You just shrugged your shoulders and watched as Mrs. Downes came running towards you. She handed Strauss a thick stack of dollars and then immediately ran towards Mr. Downes. Strauss counted the money and handed you a part of the take. You ripped the cash from his hands and stalked away from the scene. You pulled yourself into Rusher's saddle and kicked the horse into a gallop. Strauss could ride back on his own.

Each time you did a job for Strauss you felt wrong inside afterward. He was a ruthless man and essentially a thief. You weren't any better, but it felt worse than a simple robbery. The people Strauss loans to are desperate and on their last leg. Large businesses weren't hurt nearly as much as the people he loaned to. As you thought of the man and his business you felt yourself growing angrier by the second. You shook your head at the thoughts and turned towards the Cumberland forest. You knew if you went directly back to camp you would end up doing something you regretted.

"Help!" The cry ripped through the serene silence of the forest and you kicked Rusher towards it. A man was being held at gunpoint by two fools. As you neared them one of them called out to you.

"Turn around, this don't concern you." A distinct Irish lilt called towards you. O'Driscolls. You heaved in a deep breath before drawing one of your pistols. You cocked the gun and squeezed the trigger. The O'Driscoll that had been aiming at the man collapsed and the other sloppily fired a bullet towards you. It missed by a longshot and you threw yourself from Rusher towards the man. As you crashed into the man, you knocked his gun from his grip. You pinned the man's arms above his head with one hand and the other ripped your knife from your belt. You plunged the blade into his chest and pulled it back dramatically. You thrust the blade into him again and again, continuing even after he went limp underneath you.

"I won't tell no one what I saw here today." You wiped your blade on the O'Driscoll's bandana before slipping it into your belt again. You nodded towards the man and stomped towards Rusher. Your outburst had gotten rid of a lot of your foul mood, but it hadn't fully dissipated. Rusher whinnied as you sped towards camp. You knew the horse could feel your anger and you knew it made him anxious, but you didn't know how to calm him. You patted a hand against his neck and that seemed to help for a bit, but it wasn't perfect.

When you spotted a herd of deer you decided it might be a good idea to bring one back for the camp. You drew you repeater and slipped from Rusher's saddle. You crouched in the grass and lined up a shot. The deer were oblivious to you as they grazed near the water's edge. After exhaling you squeezed the trigger. The deer collapsed in the shallows sending the herd scattering through the trees. You whistled for Rusher to follow and inspected your kill. It wasn't the neatest, with the bullet having ripped through the neck, but it would do. You let out a grunt as you heaved the beast onto your horse.

You placed your right foot in the stirrup and swung your left leg over the horse's back. Rusher let out a huff and you pressed your heels into his flanks. The horse wound up the trail towards camp. Bill called out to you and you whistled to him. He lowered his gun and offered a greeting. You hitched Rusher and heaved the deer off your horse. You trudged through camp and Grimshaw thanked you for bringing in a kill. Pearson complimented you and sang your praises as you dropped the animal on his table and you grunted before turning away. The only thing you wanted to think about was your bedroll.

"Wolf," You turned towards the voice and Arthur walked towards you. You offered a pinched smile and he handed you a cup of coffee before directing you towards the edge of camp.

"Heard you went loansharking with Strauss." You nodded your head took a sip of the coffee. The liquid scalded your tongue and you spit it out with a loud 'shit'. Exclamations of the sort were the only time that others heard you speak. You dumped out your coffee and pulled your flask from your satchel. After a cooling sip of the moonshine, you turned back towards Arthur.

"How was it?" You raised a hand and wiggled it in a 'so-so' gesture. He didn't need to know about your tantrum, Arthur worried too much as it was. He nodded before grabbing the bloody hand.

"What happened?" You shrugged off his concern and took another swig from your flask. You offered it to Arthur and he swallowed a mouthful before returning it. You continued to walk until you reached 'your' rock. You sank into the dirt and Arthur followed. You could see the sunset just beginning to paint the sky through the trees.

"John's fixing to rob a damn train." You turned towards him and raised an eyebrow.

"That's how I felt when he told me too until he shared his plan. Think he might be the first bastard to get half his brains eaten by a wolf and come out smarter." You huffed lightly and took another swig. Arthur was one of the few who you didn't mind listening to.

"Will ya help us out?" He turned his head towards you and you raised your eyebrows. Rob a train? That was one of the only illegal activities you hadn't participated in. You considered it for a moment longer and nodded. He grinned and finished his coffee. You leaned your head against the cool rock and let out a deep sigh.

"Hey, Wolf, why don't ya talk?" You felt your eyes begin to tear up and you pushed yourself up from where you were sitting. You needed to get away from him, you could handle almost anything, but that question made your chest tighten and your breathing pick up. You shook your head when he tried to reach for your arm and walked away from him.

"Wolf! I'm sorry." He called after you and you waved the words away. It was all too familiar. Flashes of sitting in the pristine white room and being studied by condescending doctors played across your mind. You shook the thoughts from your head and slipped inside your tent, tying the flaps as you went. No one would bother you if your flaps were tied. When you lived in each other's pockets, you had to steal whatever semblance of privacy you could get your hands on.

You tried to sleep, and when that didn't work you lit your lamp and found the full bottle of whiskey you kept with your things. After drinking half of it, you decided to work on Jack's figurine. The wooden wolf was slowly coming together and you finished the tail. By the time you polished off the bottle, the legs were shaped and the snout was defined. You were adding detail to the ears when your hand slipped and the knife cut into the ridge of skin connecting your thumb and pointer finger. You let out a yelp and squeezed the cut. After wiping away the blood and climbing to your feet, you drunkenly swayed through the camp towards Strauss's wagon.

"Wolfie, you alright?" Arthur must have heard your loud approach. You held up your steadily bleeding left hand and he cursed.

"Shit, sit down by the fire and let me patch you up, okay?" You paused and realized that you wouldn't be able to take care of it properly on your own. You nodded and sat down on the log. Arthur approached holding bandages. He inspected the cut and frowned.

"It needs stitches." You threw your head back and squeezed your eyes shut. After letting out a heavy sigh you nodded and he began to carefully sew your skin shut. You grunted as the needle pulled the skin and Arthur apologized. Once he was finished he sat back and you inspected the cut.

"I'm sorry about earlier." You nodded and he worried his bottom lip between his teeth. After a moment of silence, he handed you his journal and pencil and you turned to a blank page. It wasn't the first time you had used this method of communication. He would hand you his journal and you would write down your responses or questions. You looked at him for a moment before writing, Bad Memories. Arthur looked at what you had scrawled and nodded.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you." You frowned before looking down at the journal. Only a few others knew about your time in the asylum, but those who found out always acted different towards you. Some fretted over you like you were a nervous damsel and others avoided you like the plague. But Arthur was different, he wasn't like others. You chewed on the inside of your lip as you wrote.

_I used to be in an asylum. Felt trapped, like no one cared about me gettin better. I escaped but sometimes I still feel like I'm there._

You handed the book to Arthur and his eyes widened. He looked down at it and back up as if it had magically changed before letting out a deep sigh.

"Shit, wolfie, I didn't know." You shrugged your shoulders and he handed the journal back to you. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was Arthur but before you knew it you found yourself writing.

_I can still talk._

Arthur looked at what you wrote and hummed.

"Why don't you?" You frowned at the page.

_World's worst stutter._

You handed the journal to him and he let out a deep laugh. You smiled and looked down at your scared arms. Silvery scar tissue ran in strong lines down your arms and hands. The majority of the scars were from claws but the occasional set of bite marks were visible on your forearms. You remembered the two attacks. You hadn't been unlucky enough to get them all in one go. Your left arm was the first set and your right the second. Both times you had been riding and wolves had decided to try to make a meal of you.

He offered the journal back to you and you shook your head. Arthur stuffed the journal into his satchel and you slipped your hand into your pocket. When you found the sweets bag you popped a lemon drop into your mouth and shook the paper bag at Arthur. He grinned at pulled out a couple of the hard candies. You heard him hum and you rolled the bag back up. You had intended to share the treat with Jack, but you knew Abigail didn't like him having candies anyway. You turned your head and watched him watch the fire. The man was such an enigma. You had seen him choke men to death, only to have him pick up Jack and toss him into the air an hour later. He was much more than he let on.

"You still up for that train robbery?" He turned away from the flames and you quickly looked into them. You nodded and you could feel his smile.

"Great, I've got to find an oil wagon, but other than that John is taking care of most of the brunt work." You furrowed your brow and looked back at him. He smiled and let out a small huff.

"It's how we're gonna stop the train. As John put it 'ain't no train driver that wants to die'." You grinned and Arthur grinned right back. You hoped to god above robbing this train wasn't a bad idea.


	3. Guard Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wolf is on Guard Duty
> 
> 08/11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So once again, there really aren't that big of differences

"...So, Let's celebrate the return of our very own Irishman! Despite getting picked up by the law, he stayed true to us!" He finished off his glass or bourbon and stepped away from Sean. After swaying dramatically, Sean jumped into his own speech. You turned away from the man and fumbled through your coat. After swallowing the last of your flask, you scraped some of Pearson's stew onto a plate and planted yourself by the scout fire. It was easier to eat by yourself and avoid their probing questions. Venison and potatoes were shoveled into your mouth. You glanced up as loud footsteps neared you. Sean MacGuire, tripping over every single thing he ran across, slipped into a seat next to you.

"I couldn't let ya sit here all by lonesome, Wolfie." You rolled your eyes and went back to your meal. Undercooked vegetables were chewed and Sean blabbered on about his special brand of nonsense until he spotted Karen. You silently thanked heavens and approached Pearson's chuck wagon. The washtub in the back was filled with half-rinsed plates. You slid your plate on top of the stack and pitied whichever girl would have to deal with them in the morning.

Mary-Beth glanced up from her book and asked if you were going on guard duty. You nodded and she told you that she cleaned the repeaters that morning. You grabbed one and stalked away into the trees, relieving Bill from his post.

"Thanks, Wolf." You smiled and jerked your head towards the party. He clapped a hand on your shoulder as he passed. Hosea had put you on night duty. The man was kind in most aspects until it came to guarding his family. He would spare no expense to protect the camp, which included you getting a good night's sleep. It's not like you could've with a party going on, but the option was something you liked to have.

You weren't an Idiot like Bill, so you didn't light a cigarette while acting as a sentinel. The cherry in the dark would be like painting a target on your face. If you were acting as a guard, you didn't want to let any enemies get the drop on you. So you instead settled for a sip of moonshine. You reached inside your coat and grabbed your flask. The metal container felt suspiciously light when you pulled it free. After giving it a quick shake you groaned. You had finished it earlier and had managed to forget. You let out an angry huff and slipped it back inside your coat. Damn Arthur and John always being around when you wanted some of whatever alcohol you had elected to fill the flask with. Ever since you joined the gang your flask was emptying at a significantly faster rate than it had before. Maybe it was the stress. With your bounty the highest it had ever been and your fuse shortening every day, you were fixing to give Bill a run for his money as the camp's angry drunken degenerate. You heard a snort behind you and turned towards it. Arthur Morgan was walking towards you.

"Came to distract you from guard duty." You smiled as he sat himself down on the soft earth. You eased yourself onto the ground and laid your repeater across your lap. You didn't mind the job of camp guard. It felt good to be able to prove your worth in such a sure way. You were nowhere near as sly as Hosea. The man had such a silver tongue that you were sure, given the chance, he could con the whole country into electing him. You weren't as tall, or strong as Arthur or Charles, but you liked to think you could be as intimidating. You were forced to learn how to exude your feelings. It was really the only way you could telegraph your thoughts without opening your mouth. Thoughtless words like curses, manage to slip out without your stutter, but the second you put much thought into what you were saying your tongue broke again. Arthur hummed quietly to himself and you turned your head.

He had shaved his beard, his rugged mountain man persona, transformed into a careless farmhand with a few passes of a straight razor. Even after months of watching his fussy hair habits, you couldn't decide how you preferred him. One day he would have hair a mile long with a beard to match and the next he would be back to clean-shaven and a couple inches of hair peeking out from his hat. Arthur must have felt your stare or maybe he heard your thoughts because he turned his head and laughed when you sheepishly smiled.

"Something on my face?" You raised your hand and ran your fingertips across his bare jaw. He smiled and you dropped your hand.

"What?" Sometimes the man was so perspective, being able to interpret an elaborate question from only a raised eyebrow. Other times he was almost as bad as Marston. All though, that wasn't entirely fair. Despite John Marston's stupid look, he was a very insightful man when he wanted to be. "Something wrong?" You blew a piece of your hair out of your face and, before you could think about it, opened your mouth.

"Your b-b-b-beard," Your rusty tongue caught and you dropped silent before continuing. "Y-y-you cut it." Arthur's eyes widened and his jaw hung open in a way where you weren't entirely sure he didn't dislocate it.

"Well shit, Wolf, I guess I did." He reached a hand up to run across the smooth skin. "You like it?" You nodded and he smiled. A twig snapped in the trees and you stood, Arthur following closely.

"Who's there?" His voice boomed through the trees and you cocked the repeater. Another twig snapped and you raised the weapon. There was movement just beyond the treeline and you peered into the moonlit night. Pale skin, nearly white, stepped through the trees and Sean's voice bounced off the woods.

"Jaysus, Arthur, don't shoot." He stepped closer, hands held up in surrender, and you swung the weapon over your shoulder.

"Don't go creeping around in the woods and Wolf won't point a gun at ya." Sean let out a small laugh and stoped his approach once he was standing a couple feet away.

"Didn't know I had to add pissing to my list of illegal acts I've committed. Jaysus, Arthur, let a man take a leak in peace." Arthur shoved him towards camp and you heard Sean mutter something under his breath. Once Sean was out of earshot Arthur let out a laugh.

"That boy, swear I'm gonna skin him someday." You chuckled and pressed your palms into your eyes. You had gone too long without a full night's rest and your eyes were beginning to hurt. When you opened them again, Arthur was looking at you.

"You should get some rest, I'll take watch for you." Arthur grabbed the repeater and you slowly shook your head.

"Hosea'll have m-my hide." Arthur rolled his eyes.

"If you're worried so much, I'll sit with you." You considered it for a moment and nodded. He sat down on the ground, leaning against one of the trees and you followed. The second your head fell against this shoulder you were out.

"Wolf, get up." You blinked your eyes open and stretched your neck. Bones clicked back into place and you let out a groan. You shook the sleep out of your head and rubbed it out of your eyes. You were laying against something that was extremely warm. With a start, you realized you had slept leaning against Arthur the whole night. You pushed yourself up and eased the repeater out of his grasp. Sometime during the night he had fallen asleep as well. Someone cleared their throat and you turned. Hosea was staring at you with a stern and disappointed face. You scratched the back of your neck and he frowned.

"You were supposed to be guarding the camp, not snoozing." At the sound of Hosea's words, Arthur woke with a start. He let out a small grumble and stretched. "How would you feel if someone snuck in during the night and slaughtered the lot of us while you were resting your eyes?"

"Hosea, don't-" Arthur started to speak when Hosea cut him off.

"I don't want to hear it Arthur, you shouldn't have been distracting Wolf in the first place." You glanced between the two and Arthur opened his mouth to protest. Hosea waved away the coming argument and limped towards camp. Arthur gave you an apologetic look.

"Sorry." You just shrugged and started for the girls' wagon. As you loped through camp you got a few teasing smirks. You brushed them off and leaned the gun against the wood next to the others.

"Have fun last night?" Apparently, Hosea wasn't the only one that saw you. Mary-Beth, Karen and Tilly had you surrounded. You tried to plot a course away from them, but they had strategically placed themselves in positions where they were caging you in against the wagon. You scratched at the back of your neck and chewed the inside of your cheek. You were spared any further humiliation when Miss Grimshaw barked at them to get back to work.

"Sorry, they're such nosy gossips. If you didn't give them anything to work with they would still find a way to pry into your private life." You just shrugged your shoulders and set off in search of coffee.

You were sitting by the cliff when John found you. He limped towards you and called out your name.

"Wolf." You looked up from your mug. "Arthur told me you were helping us out." You nodded and John smiled.

"Good, you're a crack shot." You just shrugged your shoulders and he shifted. "He also told me he got the wagon. The train's due tomorrow, so, you, me, Charles and-."

"Did I hear you say train?" Sean smiled as he strutted towards you. He looked like he hadn't drank a single drop the night before.

"No, now get outta here, before-" Sean's grin widened.

"Nah, I'm sure I did." John pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut.

"You're not coming, so fuck off." Sean let out an offended noise and John shoved him. Once Sean had slipped away back towards camp, John continued.

"Tomorrow evening, we'll all head down there and meet at an old shack near Dewberry creek. The train's supposed to be heading through the countryside, unguarded, at night. It'll be like shooting fish in a barrel. We'll clean it out, and hopefully" John held up a hand with crossed fingers, "what Mary-Beth told us about it'll be true." You nodded as he spoke. You had to admit, John's plan did sound like a solid one. John smiled.

"I'll see ya tomorrow." You nodded and turned back towards the hills. The Dakota river was glittering in the morning light and you hoped, for what felt like the millionth time, that this plan would go according to it.


	4. A Worrying Introduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Wolf take Jack fishing
> 
> 08/11

"Wolf, Arthur, can I ask you two a favor?" You looked up from your journal and Arthur from his. Abigail was wringing her skirt nervously and Arthur caught your eye. The last time she had looked like that was Colter.

"Probably not." She let out a little chuckle and Arthur sucked his teeth.

"Very funny." You folded your journal and slipped it back inside your satchel, making a mental note to empty it later before the train job. Abigail placed her hands on her hips and looked down at you.

"Would you do something with Jack?" Arthur caught your eye again, something was stirring behind those blue irises.

"He seems kinda down." Arthur rubbed at his eyes as she spoke. "All this upheaval can't be easy on the poor kid."

"Why?" He rose as he spat out the word, towering over Abigail. "Cause I'm your preferred nursemaid? or maybe it's cause Wolf here won't complain about it?" Her gaze dropped to the grassy ground and you bit your cheek.

"Because he likes you two and, well, you know, both of you know, his father's useless." She smiled her pretty smile and you felt something inside your chest twist. Arthur frowned and opened his mouth to speak. You grabbed his arm and gave him a sympathetic look. He let out a deep huff and his shoulders sagged.

"Alright, we'll, we'll do something with him." She smiled a lopsided smile and you watched as Arthur's face softened. It always seemed to around the young mother.

"Thank you." Her eyes darted between both of you and you nodded. Once she was gone, Arthur flicked open his pocket watch. He grumbled to himself as he did the math.

"We should do it now, 'fore it gets any later." You nodded and he scooped up his abandoned journal.

You found Jack sitting by himself. He had a stick in his hands and was poking at a clump of grass. You wondered how something like that could keep a kid entertained.

"Whatchu up to?" Jack looked up at you, but didn't stop making the jabbing movements with his stick.

"Playing." You turned your head and caught sight of the smallest of smirks on Arthur's usually placid face.

"Anything fun?" Jack stopped to consider the question. He dropped the stick and shifted so he was sitting on his rear, legs folded in front of him.

"I guess." He was such a polite kid. Far too mature for his age, so much so, that often you thought of him as ten or maybe twelve. That was until he asked his questions. The kid was sheltered from so much, but that didn't mean he didn't adamantly try to understand why things were happening.

"You wanna come fishing with us?" You turned your head and saw Arthur looking at you. A silent question was written across his face and you nodded. Jack seemed to perk up at the idea.

"Fishing?" From the sound of it, Jack didn't know if he liked that idea.

"Sure. You're," Arthur let out a small breath, seemingly lost on what to say. "It's about time you started to earn your keep." You felt your lips twitch in a smile. Arthur had absolutely no idea how to handle children, with their fussy moods and twisted logic.

"Okay." Jack smiled. He seemed to like the idea of being treated like he was older, even if it meant chores. At all hours of the day, Abigail would have him running 'errands'. In actuality Jack would run across the camp, completing meaningless tasks for everyone.

"Good." Arthur's words came out pinched, as if he was still unsure how to initiate a conversation with the kid. "Let's go get your pole then." Jack stood as Arthur gestured towards Abigail's tent.

"Now, you do have a fishing pole, don't you?" Jack grinned and swung his arms.

"I sure do. Uncle Hosea made me one." You waved as Jack's gaze drifted to you.

"Good. Well, let's go get it then, and go catch us some fish!" Jack grinned and started in the direction of his tent.

"Yeah!" You chuckled as you watched the kid run off, excitedly telling his mother he was going fishing. Arthur turned towards you.

"You ready to catch some fish?" You bit your lip between your teeth and squinted at him. You had never learned to fish and didn't plan on it anytime soon. Fish was great to eat, but you had no interest in catching it.

"You have a pole?" You shook your head and he gaped at you. "You do know how to fish, don't you?" You shook your head once again and he looked at you in utter disbelief.

"How has someone gotten to your age, and not learned how to fish?" You just rolled your eyes and Arthur clicked his tongue. "Now wait, I've got it, you're like Marston. Feller can't swim to save his hide and he's twenty-six." You shoved him and turned to see Jack running towards you, fishing pole in hand. Arthur smiled at the boy and started towards his horse. You untethered Rusher and watched as Arthur helped him onto Llamrei.

"When are we going back to the other camp?" You frowned as you rode next to Arthur. You were taking it slow. Jack wasn't used to riding fast.

"The one near Blackwater?" Jack turned towards you and smiled.

"Yeah." You glanced towards Arthur and caught his frown. There went Jack with his questions again.

"Well, we're not. This is our spot, for now, anyway." Jack scowled at that. "Why?"

"I forgot a storybook there." He twisted his hands on the saddle horn and looked towards you. "We left so quick."

"Well, I'm sure someone can get you another storybook." You could practically hear Arthur's smile. He loved to spoil the boy, you both did. Whether it was swiping candies from the general store or fashioning new toys, the kid had it going for him. With the gang working simultaneously working to distract him, he was dead set on becoming spoiled. You slowed your horse and decided to let him graze while they fished.

"Really? When?" He bounced excitedly in the saddle. Arthur let out a chuckle and you shook your head.

"We'll, we'll see. Got fish to catch first." You helped Jack down from the saddle and Arthur handed him his rod. After pulling off your boots and rolling up your pants, you slowly waded into the water downstream of them. Arthur smiled at you and you smiled back. Jack was interested for all of ten minutes, decidedly bored, he wandered towards a patch of flowers. You got out of the stream and made your way towards him, crouching so you could poke at the red blossoms. They were yarrow. Hosea had taken you out plant hunting a couple times and yarrow were the easiest to identify. Arthur let out a little whoop and reeled in the fish dancing on his line.

"Look, Jack, it's a Bluegill! It's almost as small as you." The boy ran towards him, flowers forgotten. "We should throw it back though, too small to eat anyways." Jack ran back to the crown and Arthur lowered the wriggling fish into the water.

"Hey look at this!" He held the bent flowers up to reveal that they formed a chain. Arthur turned and smiled.

"At what?" Jack gingerly displayed the flowers. You watched as Arthur crouched next to the boy, smile still stretched from ear to ear.

"This necklace I made." Arthur reached two fingers out to lift the flowers towards him, rod still clutched in his hand.

"Necklace?" Jack had made Tilly one the day before, using the little yellow flowers that grew near the camp.

"For momma." You made your way closer to Jack. The flower chain was expertly constructed.

"Sure." You turned your head at the sounds of approaching hooves and Arthur caught your eye.

"What a fine young man." Two well dressed, men swung down from their horses. They were Pinkertons. "And in such complex circumstances."

"Arthur isn't it?" The man who spoke had a pockmarked face, both of the men were proudly sporting shinning badges that were pinned to their lapels. "Arthur Morgan?" The second of the men grabbed a shotgun off of his horse and you heard the sound of a bullet being loaded into the chamber.

"Who are you?" You glanced towards Jack and pushed his behind both of you. You grabbed Jack's small hand and gave a reassuring squeeze.

"And you are?" The agent ignored Arthur's question in favor of his own. Arthur glanced at you. You didn't respond.

"Not talkative are you? No matter, I'm here for Morgan anyways." They walked closer and the second man adjusted the gun on his shoulder.

"Arthur Morgan, Van der Linde's most trusted associate." He addressed his partner. "You've read the files, typical case, orphan street kid seduced by that maniac's silver tongue and matures into a degenerate murderer." He smiled as he spoke, showing off his severely yellowed teeth. The agent turned towards you.

"Now you, you are a mystery. Showed up in Van der Linde's gang about four months ago. We already had a file for you, there's no official name listed, but eyewitnesses have taken to calling you the Werewolf." Your eye twitched at the name. "Pretty hefty bounty on you, nearly two thousand, isn't that right Ross?" The other agent nodded.

"Agent Milton, Agent Ross. Pinkerton Detective Agency." As he spoke, they stalked closer. "Seconded to the United States Government. Nice to finally meet." You felt Jack squeeze your hand tighter and you pulled him closer.

"We know a lot about you." Milton smiled again.

"Do you?" Arthur's hand was position near his pistol and yours was inching closer by the second.

"You're a wanted man Mr. Morgan." Ross nodded as Milton spoke. "There's five thousand dollars for your head alone." Arthur snorted and Milton's right eye twitched.

"Five thousand dollars? For me?" He glanced towards you. "Can I turn myself in?" Milton's eye twitched again and he rested his hands on his gun belt.

"We want Van der Linde." Ross turned his attention to you and you sneered.

"Old Dutch?" Arthur turned towards you, faking cluelessness. "Haven't seen him for months." You nodded along, agreeing with Arthur's lie.

"That so?" Milton removed his hat and wiped his brow. "Cause I heard a guy fitting his description robbed a train belonging to Leviticus Cornwall up near Granite Pass." Arthur shifted on his feet and you moved your hand to rest it against Jack's head.

"Oh, ain't that a little old fashioned nowadays?" You resisted the urge to flinch at Arthur's obvious lie. You were no better so you couldn't do much complaining.

"Apparently not." Milton held up his hands as he stepped closer. "Listen, this is my offer, Mr. Morgan, bring in Van der Linde and you have my word you won't swing."

"Oh, I ain't gonna swing anyways, Agent, um..." Arthur stepped closer as he spoke.

"Milton," He supplied.

"You see, I haven't done anything wrong." Milton frowned slightly. "Aside from not play the games to your rules." Milton rolled his eyes.

"Spare me the philosophy lesson, I've already heard it from Mac Callander." You squinted at Ross, the man returning the gesture.

"Mac Callander?" You wanted to shoot them, but you knew Arthur would never forgive you if you did in front of the boy.

"He was pretty shot up by the time I got to him," Milton's lips stretched into a thin smile, teeth bared. "So really, it was more of a mercy killing." Mac was dead? Anger and surprise bubbled up inside you at the words and you strained to keep your face still.

"Slow," Arthur lowered his head. "But merciful." He threw his pole on the ground and Ross pointed his shotgun at Arthur. You drew your Schofield and waved Jack backward. Milton glanced between you, calculating something behind those dark eyes. Arthur's hand still hovered over his gun.

"You enjoy being a rich man's toy do you?" His voice went deep and hoarse, almost like John's.

"I enjoy society, flaws and all." He stepped closer, glaring between the two of you. "You people venerate savagery and you will die savagely!" He pointed a finger at Arthur. "All of you."

"Oh, we're all gonna die, Agent." Arthur scowled darkly.

"Some of us sooner than others." You scoffed and Milton turned towards you.

"That offer applies to you as well, Werewolf." Your nostrils flared and you clenched your jaw.

"I th-think you should leave n-n-now." Milton turned and you holstered your gun. The other agent, Ross, didn't lower his until he was at his horse.

"Enjoy your fishing kid, while you still can." You turned back towards Jack as they rode up the hill. Arthur let out an angry grunt and you squatted near Jack.

"Who are they?" You glanced up towards Arthur. He placed his hands on the boy's head and directed him towards the horse.

"No one to worry about, no one at all." You whistled for Rusher and Arthur leaned down to grab his fishing rod.

"Let's pick up your things and get home." You watched as Jack grabbed his necklace and Arthur collapsed the fishing rod. Rusher came trotting over and you pet his nose. After helping Jack onto Arthur's horse, you started back up the hill, towards camp. On the ride back, Jack asked about why Arthur lied to them. You glanced at the man and observed as he struggled to explain to Jack about your situation. You wouldn't have known how to defend the life either. Part of sheltering the boy meant teaching him morals. It meant making sure he would be able to adjust to polite society once the gang most certainly dissipated for one reason or another.

"There you are!" Abigail rose from her place in the grass, face spreading into a large smile at the sight of her son.

"How'd you folk get on?" Arthur lowered Jack from his saddle once again. You tethered Rusher and made your way towards the woman.

"Great, we caught a fish," He handed her the twisted flowers. "And I made you this necklace." She smiled down at him as she guided him into the camp.

"AIn't that pretty?" Arthur followed them and handed her the miniature fishing pole. "Ain't I the luckiest? Did you thank Uncle Arthur and Wolf?" Jack grinned up at you and you waved.

"No need, we had a good time." Jack ran off with the rod and She leaned against one of the wooden poles on the hitching post.

"What's wrong?" She dropped her voice low so Jack couldn't hear.

"Nothing, met some folk. I better go speak with Dutch." You frowned as Arthur quickly walked away and Abigial caught your eye.

"You wanna say something about it?" You shook her head and she nodded. Dutch walked out of his tent, Arthur quick on his heels. You frowned at them but didn't try to listen in. There were more pressing things to focus on. John's train, for one.


	5. Spilling Like Oil From The Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They rob the fucking train
> 
> 08/11

A gunshot exploded with a crack through the woods and Arthur glanced at you. He peered through the trees and huffed when he saw the source. Sean MacGuire had decided to crash the party.

"Shit," Sean huffed and tried shooting one of the bottles he had lined up again. You watched as he drew and holstered his gun three times. Arthur looked at you before speaking.

"Well, at least it ain't your job." You grinned and Arthur chuckled at his joke.

"Aw, shut up Arthur, Maybe you can learn a thing or two from Wolfie there." He drew his gun again and fired a shot. The bullet hit something, it just wasn't the bottle. Instead, it buried itself in the wood of the crate it was balanced on top of.

"That's rich coming from you." Arthur huffed and stepped closer. "Yeah, you're job's starting the fights, it ain't winning them." Sean holstered his gun again and you busied yourself with a cigarette. You offered one to Arthur and he nodded in thanks. You lit a match and both of you leaned towards the flame.

"I can scrap Arthur," He fired again and missed. "I'm just no good at homework." You shook your head, and sucked on your cigarette.

"I can see." Arthur took another pull off his and blew the smoke towards Sean.

"Besides, what do you care, Englishman," Sean holstered his weapon on turned towards Arthur. "You've got no time for me. I tried to find you work, but then you're off cutting jobs with other folks, and your boy Sean doesn't get a look in." You rolled your eyes and watched as the cigarette in between Arthur's lips illuminated his face.

"Guess I don't want to get shot, that's all." Sean rolled his eyes and turned away from you. He spoke as he reloaded his pistol.

"Ah, you're a real fucking funny shit, Arthur Morgan, huh?" Sean fumbled with his gun and you exhaled another lungful of smoke. "Real fucking funny."

"Calm down." Sean bristled at that.

"You better sleep with your eyes open." Arthur's shoulders squared and he leaned closer towards Sean.

"Yeah, well you're gonna be sleeping with your chest open if you ain't careful, boy." Sean let out a chuckle and Arthur shook his head.

"I love ya, Arthur Morgan, I love ya. Come on, take a shot." Sean gestured and the bottles as he spoke. "Take your best shot, please." Arthur drew his gun lightning-fast and one of the bottles exploded in a shower of broken glass. Arthur turned away after he barked out an order to 'grow up'. You shook your head and watched his retreating form.

"Let me come on the raid with yous." You spit out your cigarette butt and frowned at the words. You stalked after Arthur and flicked open one of your guns to check it for the tenth time since you left. Sean wasn't even supposed to be there.

"Raid?" Sean followed after you and Arthur.

"Don't be playing coy with me, son, it's unbecoming." You shook your head, there was a lot about Sean that was unbecoming. "That bloody train you and him has set up." Arthur examined the oil wagon and you walked past him to run a hand over the horses' noses.

"What you're doing out here, you're going to need guns and you're going to need men." You glared at Sean and Arthur caught your eyes.

"Oh that. So Marston told you?" Arthur looked at you as he spoke, you shook your head and he rolled his eyes. "It ain't a big show, I need calmness."

"So you're bringing Wolfie here? Watched 'em rip a fucker's throat out with their teeth once, that scream calm to you?" You shook the memory of the man's blood running down your throat from your head.

"If I take you, I might as well have gone and got Micah from his little camp." Sean gaped at Arthur and you snickered lowly.

"Compare me to the oily turd again and you're a dead man." Arthur chuckled at Sean and you lit a second cigarette.

"Ain't that big of a stretch." Sean waved off Arthur's comment.

"Anyway Arthur, what's your problem with me?" You looked up from your second cigarette. "In fact, don't tell me, I already know." Sean stalked closer and you watched Arthur checking over the wagon.

"You're threatened by me." You rolled your eyes and Arthur stood up.

"Threatened by you?" Sean smiled.

"Yeah, my youthful vigor, it intimidates ya. Afraid that I'm gonna steal Wolfie from ya?" Arthur glanced towards you and you felt heat begin to burn in your cheeks. Sean let out a chuckle and Arthur moved onto the next wheel.

"Does it?" You could hear the sarcasm dripping from the words.

"It's a story as old as the hills." Sean stalked closer and you sucked on the cigarette. "The changing of the guard, the fading of the light. You're toast, old man." Arthur walked around the back of the wagon and checked the right wheel.

"Okay," He leaned up from where he was inspecting the wheel. "And what are you?"

"I'm the future, in all its glory." Sean opened his arms as he spoke and you frowned.

"Yeah, well good luck." Arthur walked back to the front and sat down to lean against the wagon. "Good luck and shut up. I wanna get some sleep 'fore Marston gets here." You sat yourself down against a nearby tree and closed your eyes.

"Wake up ya lazy sod." Your eyes flew open and you jolted up from your place against the tree. Arthur chucked another pebble at Sean and you rubbed the sleep from your eyes. With a groan, you pushed yourself up from the ground. The palm you used to steady yourself against the tree felt sticky and you pulled your hand away from the tree. Pitch was swiped across the palm and you leaned down to rub dirt on it. Once the mess was dealt with you looked up to see John and Charles coming up the hill.

"What are you doing here, kid?" John walked towards you, Charles following behind. You waved at the large man and he smiled at you.

"I'm coming, John, on the job." You rolled your eyes at Sean's persistence and moved into place next to Arthur.

"I said you weren't coming." John leaned in close and Sean snorted.

"Yeah, well Arthur says I am, and it's his party boy, so come on, let's go." He moved to climb up to the gunner seat and you shoved him off the step. He cursed but didn't protest as you climbed up and sat yourself down there instead.

"Me and the big cheeses, love it. Can't wait to slit some bastard's throat." John glanced at Sean. The Irishman was excitedly rubbing his hands together and bouncing on his heels.

"You sure about this?" John whispered quiet enough that you almost didn't hear him.

"No," Arthur growled out the word and Sean laughed sharply. Arthur glanced up at you and then back towards Charles and John. "Are we ready?" You nodded and John shrugged his shoulders.

"Yeah, train's due through tonight." Arthur nodded and made his way around the front of the wagon, John on his heels.

"Let's get this on," and then almost as an afterthought. "Charles, you ready?"

"I'm ready," Charles pulled himself onto the wagon behind you, holding onto one of the protruding handles. John did the same on the other side. Arthur pulled himself onto the bench and threw a glance at you, you nodded and he whipped the reins.

"Let's go earn some money." Arthur directed the horses around through the trees and onto the road. You glanced around you rode.

"Hey, all the horses untethered?" Charles asked from behind you.

"Think so." You turned and looked at Sean. The man was squeezed in next to John and every bump in the road sent him colliding with John's back.

"Good, they should follow behind then," Arthur grunted in acknowledgment and you turned to see the horses following diligently behind the wagon.

"You find a good spot, Wolf Man?" You looked back towards Arthur, before you realized he was talking to John.

"Yeah follow the trail southwest. There's a spot that's...remote, but should still give 'em enough time to spot the wagon." As you watched the countryside pass by, and listened to them discuss the plan again, you felt pre-job jitters set in. Your heart rate picked up and you glanced at Arthur. Despite your extensive criminal history, you had never robbed a train. Was it much different than a coach?

"They see this blocking the tracks, they'll stop soon enough." What if they didn't? You shook away the thought and admired the moonlit scenery.

"Apparently, it picks up a new team of guards at the state line, so shouldn't be much in the way of guns to deal with." The easy way they spoke about the job, comforted you slightly.

"See this is what I mean." You rolled your eyes at Sean's voice. "I disappear for a couple of weeks, and you cut me out of all the action." You liked the guy, but he got on your nerves more often than not.

"just the action that requires a brain." Arthur snickered at John's comment and Sean forced a laugh.

"Oh, you're a funny feller, John Marston. From what folk say, you had your feet up the whole time playing sick, and fondling that new scar like you were gonna buy it breakfast in the morning." John threw an elbow and Sean let out a loud groan.

"You don't know what you're talking about." Some fellers stopped when they were ignored, or told to piss off, but attention, negative or positive, made Sean come back even stronger.

"Stay close on this, wouldn't want you getting scratched by a squirrel or something, that could put ya outta commission for the rest of the year." You shook your head and Sean let out another grunt. John must've elbowed him again.

"Why do you have to speak so much? It's...incessant." Charles sounded fed up.

"Cause I still got some blood in me veins! You old bastards have forgotten how to live." If living involved Sean's lifestyle, you didn't want it.

"I blame you two for refusing him," John called from behind Arthur. He grunted in agreement and you rolled your eyes.

"Far too much trouble for what we got out of it." You hadn't gone, but you heard that they had Sean strung up in a tree by his ankles. What you would've given to see that.

"Yeah, takes a whole army of bounty hunters to bring in Sean MacGuire." You rolled your eyes at Sean's words, they probably had all the man cause they knew he ran with Dutch. "An look at me now, running a train job! Back in business, boys!" He jumped into a story about his 'da'. John, Charles, and Arthur all adamantly protested it and Sean scowled.

"Fine! Damn, you four...Sulky, Angry, Scar Face, and Simpleton. A right barrel of laughs." You turned and fixed him with a glare. Your glare didn't deter Sean's talking though.

"So we block the tracks with the wagon then jump 'em? That's the plan?" You were thankful that Sean asked the question. You had been dreading the job since you agreed to it.

"Pretty much, Charles you deal with the engineer. John, secure the passenger car fast, take charitable donations and make sure everyone behaves. Sean, Wolf, you two deal with the baggage car." Arthur pulled the wagon to a stop and you claimed out of the gunner seat. Charles and Arthur worked quickly to untether the horses.

"Mr. Marston, Mr. Smith, Mr. MacGuire, Wolf, get over there." He pointed at the bushes down the slope from the tracks. You hesitantly glanced toward Arthur, but followed Charles down the hill. "When she slows, board her."

"And you?" You looked back and saw Sean still standing near Arthur.

"I'm gonna make sure she slows." You hissed at Sean, but he waved off the noise.

"It's do or die, with you." He chuckled and started down the hill. "I like it." Arthur shooed him away and pulled himself onto the wagon. You frowned. You could hear the train approaching and pulled up your blue bandana and slipped on your black leather gloves when Charles gestured for you too. You didn't like wearing gloves, but you couldn't have them seeing the thick scars on your hands. Arthur was still standing on top of the wagon, repeater in hand. You drew your pistols and flexed your newly healed hand.

The train came to a screeching halt. The light poured through the trees and illuminated you briefly. As it slowed, it let out a set of loud whistles. You glanced towards John and he gestured for you to start up the hill. The engineer came out of the train yelling and you barely caught sight of Charles before he knocked the man out. You watched as another guard came out of the train and Sean hit him with the back of the head with the butt of his pistol.

"You bastard." You rolled your eyes and waved Sean towards the back. He jogged towards you and you pulled yourself onto the train. You motioned for Sean to follow. You opened the door to the car and a guard pushed you backward. You cocked your Schofield and shot him. A second and third presented themselves and Sean shot them. He let out a whoop and you got to work looting the car. After a moment, you took one side and Sean the other. You threw open the chest and stuffed the pocket watch and the stack of dollars into your satchel. You opened a cupboard and shoved the jewelry you found into your satchel.

"Wolf, you go check on John." You looked towards Arthur and nodded. He rushed into the car and jogged towards John. He looked up at you and shook the sack in front of one of the passengers. Charles was pointing a gun at one of the passengers.

"Everything alright Wolf?" Charles asked They didn't bother with an initial, anyone who heard your name would just think it was a codename. You nodded and he turned back to the passengers. The last man dropped a pocket watched and his wife's necklace into the bag and you grinned underneath the bandana.

"...we got a problem." You heard Sean from your position by the door. Problem? You looked out the window from an empty seat and spotted lights riding through the woods. Two men wouldn't be stupid enough to come alone, there must be move lying in wait. You whistled and John looked where you were pointing. He let out a curse and glanced towards Sean and Arthur. The pair was crouched by some crates.

"Marston, Smith, Wolf, get ready." Your eyes widened and you glanced back out the window.

"Your men come off the train now, do you hear?" You glanced towards Charles and he held out a hand. You nodded, but kept your gun raised. "You men come out now!"

"There's only two of you, you fools," You silently groaned and moved towards the other side of the cabin. Something glinted in the moonlight and you stiffened. "We got a whole lot less to lose."

"Why don't the two of you ride away?" You tugged on Charles' sleeve and you pointed out the other side. "That way neither of you get killed." Arthur seemed to notice the other men as well and as one of the lawmen spoke, he aimed his repeater and fired. You dove out of the car and took cover behind a covered crate.

You aimed your pistol and got one of them in the side. You turned towards the left of the train and fired at the men coming up along that side. Arthur yelled something you didn't understand and you kept firing at the lawmen. The pistol in your left hand was holstered after two shots. The muscles were sore from the strain and you didn't want to waste good bullets firing with a bad hand. John slid into cover next to you and took potshots at the ones coming down the hill.

"Come on! Let's make some space so we can get out of here!" You barely registered Charles' words. The rush of blood in your ears was deafening. You fired at another of the lawmen and he fell from his horse. John tugged at your arm and you followed him off of the train. Rusher came trotting out of the trees and you pulled yourself into his saddle. Arthur called for the group to follow him and you kicked Rusher after them. The white horse threw his head at the effort and you pressed a calming hand to his neck.

"Lawmen, to the left!" You looked up just in time to see the two bullets that ripped into your side. You grabbed your abdomen and aimed your pistol at one. You pulled the trigger and urged Rusher to follow Arthur's horse. Each gallop made the metal in your gut burn and you pressed your arm tighter against your side, willing the bleeding to slow. You followed the group and periodically glanced over your shoulder. The lawmen were nowhere to be seen and you let out a pained breath you didn't know you had been holding. You had gotten out of there alive, gutshot, but alive. Gutshot was something you could work with. You watched as they pulled their horses to stop and you leaned against Rusher. Your head felt light and you tried to shake away the cotton gathering in it. Sean let out a whoop and you blearily watched as Arthur divvied up the take. You tried to catch yours and slipped from your saddle, leaving a red splotch on Rusher's neck.

"Wolf?" You grabbed at your side and cried out. The impact sent a wave of pain through you. John crouched in front of you and bullied your arm out of the way. Your previously yellow shirt was a deep red and he cursed. You groaned and slumped into his arms. You tried to shake away the fuzzy feeling in your head. Your head lolled to the left, and you blinked hard. The last thing you saw before black filled your vision was Sean fucking MacGuire's pasty face peering down at you.


	6. Laid Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wolf is laid up
> 
> 08/11

You woke with a shout. Something hot was blazing in your gut and arms were holding you down. Someone was whispering reassuring words and petting your hair back from your forehead, but you could barely focus on the touch. You tried to twist away from the heat and someone cursed. You felt large hands pressing down onto the right side of your stomach, forcing you to still. You tried to focus your eyes, blinking roughly, and looked around the dusty space.

"Calm down Wolf." You squeezed your eyes shut and opened them quickly. You let out a scream as the burning object was pressed into your wound again. Instinctually, you wanted to curl in on yourself and protect the wound, but the hands holding you down were making it pretty tough.

"They're gonna draw all the lawmen in the state to us if they don't pipe down." You let out a sobbing cry as the blazing object was pressed into you.

"Sorry, Wolf." You tried to bite at the fingers that were pushing the bandana into your mouth. It was all too familiar. You weren't in the dirty shed anymore. Images of pristine white walls and starched bedsheets flew through your mind. You were back in that damn bed, restraints pinning you to it, gag stuffed in your mouth. You felt tears slip down your cheeks and you stilled. It was useless to struggle, the bindings were far too tough for you to simply break free. Chest rapidly rising and falling, you submitted to the torture. The burning object was pressed into your side again and you jerked under the hands.

"Com' on, Wolf, It's gonna be ok." You tried to locate the source of the voice. Your gut was on fire and you felt icy. Darkness enveloped your world again and you let yourself go limp in their arms.

You opened your eyes. Blank canvas stared back at you and you frowned. Your tent was a dark green and this tent was plain hemp canvas. After a moment you reached your hand towards your abdomen. Thick bandages were wrapped around your gut. You inched your way up the cot and farther onto the pillows piled at the head. Photographs were hanging from the side of the wagon and you recognized it as Arthur's tent. You looked down at your body and frowned. The blue shirt you were wrapped in was two sizes too big for you and it pooled by your sides.

They must've put up canvas walls, because you had never seen them before. Granted you had only been with them a little while, but Arthur's tent was always organized the same way. The blanket over your legs was heavy and scratchy and you wanted it gone. You kicked your right leg and it only partially moved. When you kicked your left you let out a grunt. Pain shot through your gut. The canvas wall of the tent parted and you looked up. Arthur stepped through the flaps holding two bowls of stew.

"Oh shit, you're up." You nodded and he set the bowls down on the table next to his bed. "How ya feeling?"

"L-l-like shhit." He smiled and you smiled back.

"You remember what happened?" After a moment you spoke.

"Got shhhot...somebody f-fixed m-me up." He grimaced and sat down in the chair next to the cot.

"That was the bit I hoped you wouldn't remember." You stared at him and he bowed his head. He was silent for a moment until he looked up.

"We, uh, we carried you to an old shack, and we dug the bullets out and I cauterized the wounds. When we brought you back, Strauss patched you best as he could." Arthur grabbed the bowl of stew and handed it to you. It was mostly broth but a couple of overcooked carrot and potato chunks were floating in it.

"We've been giving you broth, replacing your bandages." You raised a shaky spoonful of broth to your mouth and swallowed the liquid. He scooped up some of his own. It was bland, Pearson seldom put anything in the broth other than the meat and vegetables. The two of you ate in silence, you gave up on your spoon and tipped the bowl upwards. Arthur snorted and you lowered the bowl, giving him a quizzical look. He just shook his head and scooped more of the stew into his mouth. Once you were finished you set the bowl onto his table.

"How ya feeling?" You looked down at your injured body and frowned. Your gut burned like hell with every breath and when it wasn't it ached horribly.

"Gotta piss." He nodded and helped you shift into a sitting position. After buttoning the shirt he helped you stand. You leaned against him and he walked you towards the trees. Each step felt like someone was reopening the wounds. He propped you up against a tree and retreated to let you do what you needed to. You ignored the steadily rising ringing in your ears and called for him once you had buttoned up your trousers. He appeared in a second and you slumped into his arms.

"Come on, let's get you back to the tent." You nodded and he practically dragged you back to his tent. After lowering you into the cot, he sat back down in the chair and grabbed his journal.

"Why?" He looked up from where he was writing.

"Why what?" You gestured from your spot on the cot.

"Your t-tent." He blinked in confusion and folded his journal closed.

"Whatchu talking about? It was either my tent or John's, so Miss Grimshaw dug the side out of the wagon and we put 'em up so no one would bother ya." You smiled and leaned back in the cot.

It took three weeks until you were allowed out of bed. 

During the time you were laid up, Arthur went to go get Micah. The bastard dragged him on a coach robbery without even telling him about it beforehand. Arthur had come back furious, and refused to even acknowledge Micah's existence for two days. 

Once you were able to get out of bed on your own, the gang kept a close eye on you. If you so much as brought a hand up to your side, you were ordered back into bed. Eventually, Miss Grimshaw allowed you to return to your tent and it felt good to sleep in your own space again. You had survived the bullets, but your flask hadn't. One of the two bullets went clean through and straight into your side.

You held the ruined flask in your hands and stared down at it. It was the only thing you had from before you left your old life behind. It had been a gift from your father. He had handed you the flask on your eighteenth birthday and congratulated you on becoming an adult. It was something his father gave him when he turned eighteen. You being his only child, got the honor of inheriting the object. It had been such a happy day. And then you went and ruined the memory by killing him a month later. He had deserved it though. That bastard deserved so much worse than he got. It felt like the final tie to your old life, the life before 'Wolf', was gone. You had made sure to disappear without a trace, but it hurt. You traced your fingers over the decorative engravings and frowned at the stained spot. They had tried to rinse it off, but some of it was still crusted in the flowers etched onto the surface of it. You tossed the ruined flask onto the crate in your tent and felt tears begin to well up in your eyes.

A hand brushed against the canvas of your tent in a knock, before it parted the flaps. Arthur peeked through and you smiled. After getting shot, the man had barely let you out of his sight. It hadn't bothered you because he wasn't clingy. He would just check-in and make sure you were doing alright. You liked the attention from him, not so much from the others, but you didn't mind Arthur.

"Hey," His voice was soft and you realized the tears had slipped down your cheeks. You raised your hands and swiped at them. He wrapped his arms around you and you slumped into the hug. It wasn't the first time you two had embraced.

"My flask, its its its ruined." He rested a hand against your hair and you wrapped your arms around him. Your tears made a wet patch spread across his shirt.

"It's okay, I'll get you another one if it means that much to you." You shook your head and he chuckled. "Alright."

You hated how you were acting. Arthur didn't seem to mind one bit.

"John and I are doing another job. He won't tell me what it's about yet, but wants to meet me in Valentine." You snorted and his fingers played with your hair. When you pulled away from him, you frowned at the wet spots on his cotton shirt. He just smiled and pushed you towards the bedroll.

"Get some sleep, I know you ain't been since you woke up." You rolled your eyes and slipped under your blanket. Arthur smiled and slipped out of the tent.

"Wolf get up." You blinked yourself awake and saw John standing just inside your tent. "My thing went to shit in Valentine. Arthur and Charles are scouting ahead, but we need to move fast." You pushed yourself out of your bedroll and started shoving your clothes into your satchel. There were almost no personal items in your tent, so the packing took about fifteen minutes. You helped Miss Grimshaw and Pearson around the camp. You helped pack the men's tents and Arthur's things.

"Change of plans, Arthur and I found a new place." Charles helped hitch the last of the horses as he spoke. Dutch didn't ask any questions, he just nodded.

"You are not getting on that horse." You turned from where you were adjusting Rusher's saddle. Miss Grimshaw was glaring at you, arms folded. You just ignored her and tried to lift your foot into the stirrup. You could feel her eyes on your back as you struggled to lift yourself even a foot off the ground.

"Get in the wagon, now." She grabbed your arm and dragged you towards one of the wagons. You looked up when the girls started giggling. She helped you into the wagon and then went around the front to drive it.

"Wolfie, how are things with Arthur?" Karen pushed you and you glared at her. The other girls in the wagon broke into giggles and you just looked at the passing scenery.

"Com' on, Wolfie, ya done it yet?" Tilly smiled at you from across the wagon. Mary-Beth opened her mouth to say something else when Miss Grimshaw interrupted.

"Leave 'em alone, ya harpies." You smiled and watched a slow-moving stream.

Setting up camp took approximately three days. The new place Arthur and Charles had found was good for a camp. It was easily defendable and next to a body of water. It was next to a town called Rhodes. Everything was hot, you couldn't move an inch without feeling sticky. The day could start out clear and hot, and then in an instant, the world would be swimming in thick fog. Fog so dense that you couldn't see your hand a foot in front of your face.

Rhodes was one of those backwater towns that was stuck in the past. You had spent ten minutes in town and realized you wanted to risk going back to Valentine. The stink of the livestock town was preferable to the racist hillbillies that lived in that town. Dutch saw the town as the best thing since the cigar. He thought there was gold, cause of some rumor that he heard from an idiot deputy.

You threw another pebble into the lake and frowned. Dutch had been putting you on the sidelines again. He hadn't let you do anything cause you were laid up. Fucking bullshit.

"Whatchu doing Wolf?" You looked up at Arthur and smiled. He scooped up some of his own and threw a handful into the water. You threw the rest of yours into the water and reached for your flask. You frowned when you remembered that it wasn't there anymore. Arthur handed you a cigarette and you looked up at him. He smiled and you took a drag off the roll before handing back to him.


	7. Clemen's Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Fluff
> 
> 08/11

Arthur blew into camp with Dutch on his heels. Dutch sulkily brushed off Arthur's teasing, and he threw back his head in a loud laugh. Dutch pointed at Arthur's shirt and the cowboy scowled. His entire body was caked in swampy mud. You smiled to yourself as he tried to brush some muck off of his clothes. Dutch slipped away and you made your way towards Arthur. He looked up from his futile attempts and smiled.

"Hey, Wolf." He made to step closer and you backed up. He snorted and shrugged his shoulders. "Alright, alright, I'll wash up in the lake. How bout that?" You nodded and followed him towards the water. He gave you a wry smile before unbuttoning his shirt. Your eyes widened and you turned away from him. He let out a snort and you heard him wade into the water.

"Why don't you join me? The water's nice and cool." You rolled up your pant legs and stepped into the water. "You're acting like John."

"Ssso?" He swam closer and you looked skyward, avoiding his nakedness.

"So, he can't swim, what's your excuse?" You could feel his gaze on you. You squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head. What was your excuse? Indiana had no shortage of rivers and streams.

"N-n-never had to l-learn." Arthur made an appalled noise and you opened your eyes. He shook his head and you nervously shifted. Arthur floated closer and you flexed your toes in the water. He scrubbed at his clothes and you smiled as an idea bubbled inside your mind. You slowly rolled up your sleeves and watched as Arthur turned his back to you. Once his attentions were focused on his clothes and stooped. You flung a cupped handful of water at the man and broke out in a peal of laughter at his squawk. He turned on you with a dark expression and you pushed backward through the water.

"You're gonna regret that." His voice was low and threatening. Your heart leaped into your throat and he launched himself at you. His naked form connected with you and he dragged you into the water. You let out an anguished cry and wrapped yourself around him in the deep water. "Christ, you get more and more like John each day."

"Your fault." He let out a laugh and waded farther out. His head was barely above the water, when you heard distinct giggles coming from the shore. Tilly, Mary-beth and Karen we're peering from the treeline just outside of camp. Only then did you realize your position. You were wrapped around Arthur's naked body, utterly drenched and stranded. Red shot up Arthur's neck and shoulders and you felt twin blush rise on your skin. You sent the girls a scowl and heard a wolf-whistle from Karen. Arthur shook with laughter below you and you squeezed your legs tighter around his waist.

"Get back to work you, busybodies, there'll be gossip enough for you after the clothing is mended." You were thankful once again for Miss Grimshaw's intervention. With a knowing look, she ushered the girls back into camp.

"You're as red as a tomato." You rolled your eyes and he chuckled. "Doubt I'm much better. Want me to walk ya back to the shore?" You nodded and he pushed through the water. Once you neared the shore, you dropped from his grasp and walked out of the water. Your clothes felt immensely heavy as you dripped on the pebbles. Arthur dressed in the water and emerged equally wet. You spied a shiny star that sat next to his boots. He caught your gaze as he pinned it to his shirt.

"Dutch, for only God knows why, thinks it's an amazing idea to fully integrate ourselves with this inbred town." Your eyes widened at the implication. Dutch made them deputies? Or somehow swindled his way into the sheriff's good graces? You followed him towards the camp and mulled over the news. Something about the idea didn't sit right and you glanced towards your leader's tent. Dutch was standing in the mouth of his tent, smoking a fat cigar, calm as you please. You slopped towards your tent and ripped your soaked clothes off. After silently cursing Arthur, you emerged dressed in fresh, dry clothes.

You flashed Sean a wide smile and slipped out of camp. You repeater was fixed on your back and your attention sharp. Pearson had complained one too many times and you found yourself slipping out of camp in search of dinner.

After trudging back into camp, wild turkeys slung over your shoulder, you dropped into place by the fire. Being by the water was great until the mosquitoes started. Every idle second was spent either swiping across your skin in search of the bugs or scratching at the itchy bites. The fire did little to deter them and you swatted at one that landed on your arm. Mrs. Adler let out an angry grunt and slapped at her neck where one had landed.

"Never had to deal with these up on the mountain." You nodded and she got a distant look in her eyes. "My Jakey's cousin, Darlene, got real sick by them a couple years back, blazing fever and night sweats. Never did figure out how to fix her. She died soon after she got sick." She shook her head, as if to clear away the memory, and went back to her stew. You rose from your place by the fire and retired to your tent. The thick canvas was drawn tight enough that the pests had a tough time getting inside. You settled down for the night and cursed at a rock that you had yet to remove from underneath your bedroll.

The water was a cold shock when you splashed it on your face. You were eternally grateful for the tight ship Miss Grimshaw ran. Coffee was brewed first thing and fresh water was trudged over from the lake. After wiping the drips from your face, you went in search of Arthur. His cot was empty but Llamrei was still tethered in camp. You found him sitting near the scout fire, overlooking the camp.

"Hey wolfie," he called as you sat down next to him. Your sleeves were rolled up due to the stifling heat and your arm brushed against his own. You wiped the sweat from your forehead and squinted at Arthur's sketch. It was of John, the scarred man was playing with Jack. You smiled and Arthur turned his head. He caught your look and he titled the journal so you could see better. It was a rough sketch, but there was no doubting who it was. You sat with him for a long time, leaning against the tree. You idly picked at a bug bite and squinted into the sky. It was going to be another clear, bright day. You welcomed the change. It was going to be a long while before you forgot the punishing cold of the mountain.

It was peaceful. The camp was quiet and lazy. The heat made everyone sluggish. You could almost forget that you were a wanted criminal. That Arthur had a bounty five times your own. If you two gave yourselves up you could finance this grand plan of Dutch's all on your own. You snickered at the thought and ignored Arthur's puzzled look. Something about the heat made you bold.

You stretched one arm and then, ever so slowly, laid it on top of Arthur's. He closed his journal, intertwining his then vacant fingers with your own. You smiled at him and he beamed right back. Goose flesh pickled on your skin as he traced the silvery scar tissue that ran over your hand. You studied him through the corner of your eye, but he was focused on the scars. Memories of wolves and nearly bleeding out pulsed through your head and you closed your eyes.

Your breathing quickened and you pushed back the memories. You were determined to not let them ruin a good fucking thing. Something shuffled and you knew that Arthur had turned to look at you. Instead of opening your eyes or offering an answer, you clutched his hand. He squeezed yours back and you ran your thumb along his knuckles. They were scarred. You imagined the countless bar fights the man got in. Sometimes drawing from your own memories to fill in the more exciting details. You had watched him first hand. He was merciless when it came to beating someone to a pulp. Typically, they always deserved it though.

Panic expertly avoided, you opened your eyes. Arthur had closed his own, head leaning against the trees. If anyone saw you they'd assume so much. You had been caught sleeping next to the man, you didn't need to add hand holding to the list of things you had done. Yet, you found yourself just enjoying the moment despite the threat of Sean or Bill seeing. The men could ruin your reputation, but you couldn't care less. In that moment, it was only you and Arthur. The sun beating down on your skin. On-lookers be damned, you leaned your head against his shoulder and smiled as he leaned his head on your own in turn.


	8. A Coach and A Barn Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They rob a coach
> 
> 08/11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am finally caught up

"Wolfie, you mind if I talk at ya?" You had never seen Molly look so anxious. Then again, she had never asked you to listen. You shrugged your shoulders and followed her towards the edge of camp. She sat down near a tree and you did the same. Molly was nice, even if she thought herself above everyone else.

"You won't say anything to anyone else, right?" She wrung her hands as she spoke. You gave her a look and she smiled sheepishly. "Oh dear, that was rude of me. I should've thought before I opened my mouth." You just shrugged and she nodded.

"Dutch has been acting queer lately. I really love him, ya know?" She looked towards you and you nodded. That must have been all she needed to hear because she got going.

"He hasn't touched me in weeks. Not since Mr. Bell got caught up in Strawberry. Ya don't mind me speaking about that do ya?" You just shrugged again. Her eyebrows were pushed together and she picked at the side of her thumb.

"He always says loyalty is everything, but I can't help and wonder if he's got eyes for someone else. That wench Mary-beth, for one. I shouldn't speak ill of her, she's a nice girl." She looked down at her lap and let out a heavy sigh. You kept your mouth closed. Dutch was infamous for his tastes. You had heard about his almost constant habit or trading out women.

"I think my time in his favors is coming to an end, and I can't do anything to stop it." You watched as tears welled in her eyes and, before you could think about it, pulled her into a hug. She was stiff at first, until she wasn't. Her arms wrapped around you in a crushing hug. Being in love was something you wouldn't wish even on your worst enemy. It was messy and more often than not, everyone involved got hurt. The sound of an awkward cough drew you away from her. She wiped at her eyes and sniffled slightly before standing.

"Thank you, Wolf, for listening." You smiled and she started towards the middle of camp. Arthur scratched at his chin as you turned towards him.

"Sorry, I just was hoping you'd wanna come into town with me or someth-" Before he could finish his sentence, Uncle came limping towards you.

"Arthur!" You glanced towards the leech and Arthur huffed. "Excuse me, Wolf."

"What you want?" You busied yourself with flipping open your gun. Uncle grabbed at Arthur's arm.

"I bring a gift," Last time Uncle brought a gift, it ended with you and Sean nearly getting lynched. A snort escaped you and Uncle glowered at you before continuing. "The great gift of information." That didn't bode well.

"So, you got some tip off, so now I can risk my neck, and make you some money while you lounge around." He glanced towards you and you shrugged your shoulders. Even if Uncle's tip came from a drinking spree, they were normally reliable.

"You know, Arthur, bitterness, it works on the inside as well as on your sour face." Arthur turned away from him and lit up a cigarette. You flicked your gun closed and Uncle threw you a look.

"If you say so, but you can go find some other fool to run your errands." Uncle made a disbelieving face and turned towards you spluttering.

"Whatchu say, Wolf, interested in making some good money." You just shrugged and he smiled. "Bill, come on over here, you be my other fool? You too, Charles." The two men glanced at each other before approaching.

"What are you talking about?" Bill didn't like being called a fool at the best of times. Despite all of the teasing words from others, you didn't think he was stupid. He had a good head on his shoulders, when he chose to think for himself.

"Arthur's above a little stick up I heard about." You pushed away from the tree and made eye contact with Charles over Uncle's shoulder.

"No, I'm not." You glanced at Arthur and schooled your expression away from a smirk.

"Well, you just said-" Arthur cut Uncle off before he could finish.

"I'll do it, as long as you ride with us." That time you let the smirk play across your features. Uncle had no problem taking a 'commission' on jobs, but actually going out on them was something else.

"I got a serious medical condition." There he went again. Bill gave you a look and you smiled.

"Yes, you are a compulsive liar." You had seen Uncle hurting, but he always played it for the audience.

"No need to be like that." Arthur just rolled his eyes and took another drag off his cigarette. "Charles, have I ever lied to you?"

"I hardly know you." You bit your tongue to keep from laughing and Uncle turned towards you next.

"Wolfie?" You glowered at the name but just shook your head. "Exactly, now you all should do this. It's easy and I'll only take a small commission for the information, but it's now or never." He held up his hands as he spoke. Of course, he asked for a cut.

"Then it's never." Arthur started away from him and Uncle balked.

"Oh, God help me." He shifted on his feet and glanced at all of you. "Fine, I'll do it." Arthur let out a laugh and Uncle grumbled.

"Well, what is it?" You glanced at Charles and he just shrugged his shoulders.

"It's a supply wagon, carrying payroll, but very briefly unguarded, apparently, as it passes through a crossroads near here where there's an old ruined church before it connects with the rest of the wagon train" He pulled himself up in Nell's saddle as he spoke. "Very easy pickings." Arthur glanced around the group and scratched at his chin.

"As long as we get paid or, you get shot I'm happy." He tossed his cigarette to the grass and ground it out with the toe of his boot. You nodded and untethered Rusher. The horse was practically jumping with joy with the idea of getting to go out. He had hadn't left camp since you moved to Clemen's Point. After feeding him a carrot, you pulled yourself into his saddle.

"You are a sick man, Arthur Morgan, a very sick man indeed." You snickered and followed after Charles. "Come on then, you miserable bastards."

"How you get wind of this, old man?" Bill's question was a good one. Just how exactly did Uncle hear of such a fortuitous tip? "We only been down here all of five minutes."

"Well, while you boys been off fishing or playing lawmen or whatever the hell you've been doing, I've been getting down to business." Bill moved in front of Arthur.

"Finding the nearest grog house." You snickered and Charles turned to glance at you.

"Hey, if you don't want in on this Williamson, that's fine by me. Do us all a favor. Head Home." Bill scoffed and no doubt opened his mouth to voice his complaints when Arthur spoke.

"Just give it a rest, you two." You glanced at your surroundings. The Lemoyne air was hot enough that you had left your vest at camp, and rolled up your sleeves. Your scars were starkly contrasted against your skin. You huffed and resisted the urge to pick at them.

"Just have a little faith for once, will ya?" You rolled your eyes at the words. "I've been scoping jobs like this since you fellers were kneehigh to a grasshopper." The land opened up and you glanced at the yellow tinted grass. It seemed that everything in Lemoyne was close to dying.

"Once a decade, maybe. So what is it you've scoped here, exactly?" You rolled your eyes at Arthur's words. He seemed to always be jumpy when it came to jobs. Although, you didn't get to be his age when you were careless about what jobs you ran.

"Oh, I told you. There's a wagon with a lockbox passes through every week." Uncle slowed his horse, so the rest of you followed suit. It was too exposed where you were. You glanced at Arthur, then at the dying hills.

"We should cover our faces." You rolled your eyes at Charles' words, but complied anyway. You rolled down your sleeves and pulled your gloves on after securing the bandana around your face. Uncle glanced at your gloves and you huffed. It was already getting hot with them on, despite the thin leather.

"They'll be passing through the crossroads up ahead." You nodded and watched as Arthur pulled up his bandana.

"When?" Bill's impatient tone made Uncle scoff.

"Soon, Williamson. Chrissakes. It should be due any time now." You squinted into the distance and shifted in Rusher's saddle. You didn't like where it was, coach hold-ups went better in tight places. Places lined with trees.

"Let's keep this quiet and clean. Nobody needs to die here." You caught sight of Charles' glance towards you. He wasn't wrong, but it still annoyed you. You had a reputation for being violent and having a short temper, but only when it was necessary.

"There! You see, gentlemen?" There was indeed a coach in the distance. You squinted at it and then glanced towards Arthur. He was wearing a hard look and fiddling with Llamrei's reins. "Just like clockwork." Uncle kicked Nell into a gallop and you followed. It was all or nothing. The coach thundered towards you and turned down the other side of the crossroads.

"Stop the wagon!" You rolled your eyes at the yell, but drew your pistol when it didn't slow. "I said, stop the damn wagon!" The driver pulled the wagon to a stop and you glanced at Bill. His yelling had worked.

"Now, don't try anything stupid, and we won't do anything unkind." Arthur drew his pistol and you guided your horse behind Taima.

"You know, boys, I, I don't want to get shot, but this is a mistake." You glared at the gunman and cocked your gun. Something felt off.

"I work for Cornwall Kerosene and Tar, Mr. Leviticus Cornwall." You glanced towards Arthur, but kept your gun trained on the men. Cornwall? He was the guy that shot up Valentine looking for Dutch.

"Oh great." You heard Arthur's barely audible sigh and let out one of your own.

"So you know him?" Rusher threw his head and you pressed a hand to his neck. Bill let out a chortling laugh and Charles muttered something along the lines of 'who doesn't?'.

"I hear he's rich enough to share th wealth around and not miss it too much." You glowered at the men and slipped from your saddle. They were wasting time.

"Oh, he'll miss it." You broke open the lock with the butt of your gun and Charles climbed inside the bed of the wagon. You grabbed the thick stack of cash and tossed it to Arthur. He caught it easily before Bill cursed.

"Shit." You turned and peered into the distance.

"Hey, I think I see something." There was another quickly approaching wagon. "He's being robbed up ahead!" You let out a harsh 'Fuck' and glanced towards Arthur.

"Let's go!" Uncle called as you pulled yourself into Rusher's saddle. Bullets whizzed past and you kept yourself doubled over in the saddle. You were not eager to get shot again.

"Drop your goddamn weapons right now." You rolled your eyes and twisted in your saddle, lining up a shot. The gun fired with a crack and one of the men grabbed at his arm. Uncle led you up the hill.

"We got a lot of company back there," Arthur called over the sounds of the escape. You stole a look and immediately regretted it. There were at least five of them.

"Light a shuck, y'all! Get rid of these sons of bitches." That was easier said than done when you were leading the group. Arthur let off a shot and one of the men dropped.

"Nice going, Uncle! Most guarded wagon in goddamn history." You couldn't help but agree with Bill as you fired another messy shot towards your pursuers.

"How was I to know?" You rolled your eyes and ducked as Bill fired past you. "Ride fellers, come on." Uncle had yet to fire a single shot. You didn't even know if he kept a gun on him. He peeled off from the road and into the countryside again. The gunmen called after you and a bullet whizzed uncomfortably close past your head.

"Where the hell are we going?" Bill fired off another shot as he complained.

"Getting outta here! What kind of dumb question's that?" The horse grunted from the effort and you pressed a gloved hand against his neck. Arthur breezed past you.

"You can move fast when you have to, can't you?" You rolled your eyes and turned to fire off another shot. You had barely even raised your gun before a bullet ripped into Rusher. You were thrown from the saddle and let out a loud grunt. Arthur turned his horse back and pulled you into the saddle before you had a chance to process what was happening. You wrapped one of your arms around his middle and fired off another shot.

"You alright back there?" Charles was the one who called out to you. You nodded against Arthur's back.

"Just peachy." You had lost sight of the gunmen

"Quick! Get off the trail, into the woods." Arthur guided Llamrei into the trees and after Charles. "Let's shake 'em and get back to camp!" A puff of gun smoke bellowed out of Bill's gun.

"No, we need to find a place to lie low. We can't risk leading Cornwall's men back to camp." Arthur's horse jumped the fence into someone's pasture and you grunted. An old barn stood near a decrepit house.

"Let's hide in here." Arthur pulled Llamrei to a stop and you dropped out of the saddle. Arthur drew his repeater before slapping her flank. She bolted into the trees with the rest of the horses.

"We'll stay until dark and then we'll sneak outta here." You slipped into the old barn and settled down against the wall. "Charles you keep watch for now."

"Sure." Arthur sat down next to you. You wrapped your arms around your middle and clenched your jaw. That dumb horse was probably dead in the countryside. They no doubt shot him, just to make sure.

"While we get some rest." Uncle sat down near the door of the barn, holding a repeater that he produced out of thin air. You pulled off your gloves and closed your eyes.

"Alright." The word woke you with a start. You stretched and Arthur offered you a hand. He pulled you up and you looked around. It was well into the night. "Let's try and get outta here."

"Hey." You kicked Bill and he jerked awake.

"Shit!" You scowled at him and Uncle chuckled.

"Absolutely." You grabbed your gun off the ground and Bill stood slowly.

"Shut up, old man." Arthur scrubbed a hand down his face and Uncle scoffed.

"Look, I was just trying-" Charles cut him off with a harsh before he could finish the sentence.

"Shut up." He back up slowly and you glanced toward Arthur. "There's a light over by the house." Sure enough, in the distance, at least three lanterns were approaching the house.

"Damn." His whisper was hoarse. You shifted nervously and backed farther into the barn. "Let's just keep calm and see what happens." The men were yelling at someone in the house and you ducked behind a wall next to Arthur.

"Maybe I heard some noises out by the barn a while ago?" Your eyes widened and Arthur let out a quiet grunt. That wasn't good. Two of the men slowly approached the barn and you glanced towards Charles.

"Well, the place looks deserted enough." Arthur peered through a gap in the wood.

"Sure." One of the men walked around the side and the other took a step inside the barn. The lantern creaked as it swung on the handle. You held your breath and clamped a hand over your lips just in case. Arthur was pressed up so tightly against you that you could barely breathe. The man just stood there.

"Place looks empty to me." You swallowed and the hand clutching your pistol shook. "Now the old guy up there is full of crap."

"Yeah, I don't think they're here. Don't see any horses," The second one called from around the back.

"Come on, let's head back." The man turned and yelled out the glass-less window. "Boss! Place is empty."

"Shit!" Bill knocked something over with a clatter and Charles slipped out from behind the ladder. He shot the man before he could even fully turn around. Arthur jumped out from behind the wall and you peered out the window.

"Give 'em Hell!" You cocked your gun and took cover underneath the window. Men were coming from all around the barn. Bullets buried themselves in the flimsy wood of the barn and you fired shots through the thick fog.

"Where are they all coming from?" You barely heard Charles over the sound of gunfire.

"Looks like Mr. Cornwall's gone and upped his security." You fired another shot at the men and watched as one of them dropped. For the first time since you joined the gang, you actually saw Uncle fire a gun. He was a pretty good shot.

"Nicely done, Bill. They teach you that move in the army too?" If it wasn't for the dire circumstances you would've burst out laughing.

"Can't you keep your fat feet still for ten goddamn seconds?" Uncle fire another shot into the approaching men and you reloaded your pistol.

"You got us into this." You weren't paying attention to them, you were more focused on the men coming from the opposite side. You tugged Uncle towards the other side of the barn and he cursed. A bullet whizzed into the barn and buried into the floor.

"Shit..Fire!" You felt your pulse rise at the word. Fire, not fucking again. The old dry hay was perfect kindling and it was slowly growing. The fire was bright enough that it was illuminating about half of the barn. You felt like your heart was beating in your throat.

"If we don't get outta here soon, we're charcoal." You stumbled towards the middle of the barn and glanced towards Arthur. A beam collapsed and Charles knocked into you as he dove away from the fire.

"This whole place is catching." You covered your head with your arm and watched as Bill kicked one of the rotting boards free from the wall. He knocked a few others free with the butt of his rifle and you let out a hacking cough. The smoke was getting thicker with every second and the fire hotter. Charles pushed you towards the hole and you stumbled out after Uncle.

"Come on, Arthur." The outlaw stumbled out of the barn just as another beam collapsed.

"Let's head into the woods." You let out a harsh cough and stumbled down the hill with Charles. Bullets kicked against the trees and you dared to glance back at Arthur. He just waved you forward.

"Where we going, Bill?" An errant branch whipped against your side and you winced.

"We'll try to lose them in the woods." You could hear Uncle panting next to you. Your gun was gripped tightly in your hand and you jumped across a stream.

"Let's split up a bit, try to confuse 'em." You glanced at Arthur. "Arthur, with me." Charles grabbed your hand and dragged you through the woods. Your lungs burned and all you could think about was getting shot again.

Bill dropped down behind a log and you crouched behind a thick tree. You had no idea where Charles was, but you could hear them approaching. Their lanterns were blazing in the dark. You tried to swallow down another cough but it ripped out of you.

"What the hell was that?" You clamped your left hand over your mouth and raised your pistol.

"Came from over there." The light drew closer and you rose to lean against the tree. Once the man rounded the trunk, you shot him. Another gunshot went off and the other man dropped to the ground. Charles cursed when other men came running.

"Nice Job, Wolf" You would've punched Bill if he was closer. You shot another of the men and whirled around when you heard footsteps coming from down the hill. It was just Arthur and Uncle. Arthur made quick work of the others.

"We all still alive?" A chorus of 'yeahs' echoed and you nodded.

"Yeah, I'll deal with you later." Uncle floundered and you scowled at the old man.

"We got some money, didn't we?" You glared at Uncle.

"Sure, but now we got Cornwall on our backs again." You cleared your throat and rubbed at your throat.

"It was an honest mistake." Arthur scoffed.

"Leave it, go on, get out of here. Everyone split up, go on, run, quick." You rubbed at your eyes and Arthur walked towards you.

"See ya back at camp." You nodded towards Charles and Bill. Once they were gone Arthur turned towards you.

"Come on, let's go try and find your horse." You nodded and he started up the hill. Your heart was still hammering in your chest as you followed Arthur towards where your horse should be. Even if he was dead, you paid good money for your shit.


	9. A New Horse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Horse breaking and fluff
> 
> 8/25/2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extremely short, but I've been dreading this chapter, after screwing myself over eight chapters ago. I fixed the plot and hopefully you guys can forgive me for the length and not killing Micah

You were sulking in your tent. That's how it had been since you got back. You would emerge at most once a day and then you would lock yourself back inside your tent. You thought it was perfectly fine to stay inside all day, but apparently, Arthur did not. 

"I'm coming in." You were about to protest, when he parted the flaps of your tent and slipped inside. He pushed aside the pile of dirty shirts and frowned at you.

"You've been sulking in here for days, we're going to get you a new horse." His voice left little room for disagreement. You grunted and pushed yourself into a standing position. Arthur took one last look at your dirty space and slipped out of your tent.

You followed him towards Llamrei, the horse was already saddled and raring to go. He cooed at the horse and you scratched your arms as he tightened her saddle.

"You ready?" He turned to look at you and you nodded. He pulled himself into his saddle and offered a hand to you. You disregarded his hand as you pulled yourself up onto her.

The ride was near silent. You focused on the clamping of Llamrei's hooves and the buzz of cicadas. Your palms felt on fire where you rested them on his hips. You swore you could feel Arthur's heat seeping through his heavy trousers. Every jolt of the horse drew your focus away from the surroundings and back to your position.

"Now, I've got two hundred bucks, or we could go and try to break a horse on our own, your choice." Breaking a horse wasn't easy, but you preferred the ones you trained yourself. He twisted in his saddle and glanced at you. You worried your lips and jerked your head towards the hills. Arthur's lips twisted into a smile as you surveyed the land.

You wanted a Mustang. The beasts were notoriously difficult to tame, but you had seen a few running with a herd up in New Hanover fore you left. With any luck, they would still be there. Arthur twisted to look at you again and he sighed.

"You got a horse in mind, Wolfie?" You nodded and he slowed Llamrei. "Alright show me." He pulled out his map and you towards the Heartlands. Arthur nodded and kicked Llamrei into trot.

Lo and behold, there were no mustangs. Instead, you spotted a herd of Paints. They weren't the horse you were looking for, but they would do. American Paints were reliable horses, pretty too.

Arthur watched you watch them. They were standing close to each other, unaware that you were there. A pretty black and white stallion grazed on the edge of the herd and you rose to your feet. With a quick glance at Arthur, you slowly started toward the beast.

The horse raised it's head and started away from you once it realized you were there. You shushed it and raised your hands, stepping towards the horse. He snorted as you murmured quietly. Once you were close enough, you ran a hand over his flank. At first, the horse tried to shy away, but by the third time, he relaxed into your touch. You glanced towards Arthur and pulled yourself onto his back. The wild horse grunted at the sudden weight on him, and tried to buck you. You wrapped your fingers in his mane and rolled with the movement. Each buck you squeezed your legs tighter around his middle and steadied yourself. Once the horse slowed, you ran a hand over his neck. Arthur approached quickly and lopped a makeshift bridle over his head.

"There we are, wolfie. You done this before?" You rolled your eyes, and nodded. The paint huffed as you slipped from his back. Arthur handed you the rope.

The ride and starting the breaking process of your horse had taken most of the day, and by the time you had a camp set up, it was dark out. You shivered next to the fire and wrapped your duster tighter around yourself. The plains weren't particularly windy, but the temperature drop was enough that you felt it in your bones.

"Just take the tent, wolfie, I know your cold." You shook your head again and he frowned at you. "What? I don't mind sleeping next to the fire." A blush crept up your cheeks and you jerked your head towards his small tent. You hopped he got the message, that you wanted to share the tent. You sat down in the tent, and he made a move to step out of it. You grabbed his hand and he turned towards you, eyes wide as saucers.

"Conserve body heat and all." His words were shaky and you curled up on your side, Arthur mirroring you.

You woke up feeling incredibly warm. Heat radiate through your body and you lazily opened your eyes. During the night you had turned into Arthur's side. His skin being incredibly warm, damn near furnace-like.

"Good Morning, Wolfie." You hummed into his chest and stretched lazily. It felt like the first time in years that you hadn't woken up from nightmares. "Let's go check on that horse." You grumbled your agreement and pushed yourself into a sitting position.


	10. Horses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hosea asks you to go fishing, what could go wrong?
> 
> 8/30/2020

You watched the camp with a smile on your face. 

Your new horse, Deimos - named after the Greek god of dread at the suggestion of Hosea - was training up beautifully. He was steady near gunfire and sweet as could be with you. Deimos adored you and was about as loyal as a dog. Whenever you turned your back, you would feel a pair of lips trying to mouth through your pocket. According to Arthur, the horse was the devil. He had tried to run his hand over the beast's flank, only to narrowly dodge a thrown kick. Keiran hadn't had any trouble with the horse. The second anyone else tried to grab his reins he would throw his head, screech bloody murder, and try to nip at the closest set of fingers. You found it endearing, others did not. 

"You need to train that damn beast better, Wolfie," Sean said, stumbling towards you one night. You just shrugged your shoulders. The horse was a better guard dog then the stray Dutch had allowed to hang around camp. Cain was a good dog, always laying his head on your boots and giving you big, sad eyes. You had caught Susan's scornful glance when you fed him bits of your stew. Of course, she would object, you were reinforcing the behavior, but you loved his sweet eyes. 

The wooden wolf was finished. Jack would be absolutely delighted, but the bloody stains were not ideal. You shrugged away the doubt and started towards Abigail. 

"Wolf?" She looked up at you from her mending and you held out the toy. Conversating with her was not ideal, since she couldn't read and gestures would only get so far. But you held your hand down by your hip to indicate Jack's height and her eyes flashed with recognition. "He's down by the water. Hosea too." You nodded in thanks and started towards the shore. 

Jack was easy enough to spot. The little boy was running around Hosea's legs in his version of tag. You and Sean had tried to show him how to play once, but it never really took. 

You sidled up next to the man and lopsidedly smiled when Jack switched to you. Occasionally, his hand would dart out and tag you, and you would tag back. You fiddled with the toy and handed it to Hosea when the man held out his hand. 

He smiled appreciatively at the gift and handed it back, clearing his throat. 

"Jack," His voice clearly cutting through the quiet morning. The boy slowed and looked up at the older man. "Wolf's got a gift for ya." His eyes lit up and his head tilted backward, looking up at you. 

"Really?" He practically squealed as he spoke. You nodded and waited for him to close his eyes. The toy was gently laid in his hands and you tapped his shoulder, letting him know it was alright to open them. Pure joy ran across his features as he turned the carving over in his hands. He looked up at you and wrapped his arms around your left leg. 

"Thank you, Wolf! I'm gonna go show momma." He let go of your leg and ran up the hill towards camp. You smiled at his retreating back. 

"Let's go fishing, Wolf," Hosea's tone was light, despite it not being a question. You swallowed thickly and nodded. You couldn't refuse him. For all Dutch was worth, he didn't have anything on Hosea Matthews or Susan Grimshaw when it came to intimidation. "Get your things then." Your eyes widened and you scurried off towards Deimos. The horse was already tacked up but you checked and rechecked anyways. 

Hosea approached leisurely, watching as you watched him. 

"Ready?" He didn't even spare you a glance as he pulled himself into Silver Dollar's saddle. You climbed up onto Deimos and followed him down the trail out of camp. 

"Normally, we would just fish along Flat Iron, but I'm thinking something farther, more private, aren't you?" Had it been anyone else, you would've turned your horse around and rode away. The words were a clear threat of some kind of violence. You knew the question wasn't a real one, so you just trailed along behind him. 

He could murder you. Folks in camp would know, of course, but if it was Hosea who did it? Would they ask many questions? He was a master con artist and ex-actor, would they even know if he lied? Would they care? 

He pulled Silver Dollar off the road and you looked around. You hadn't bothered to watch where you were going, blindly following the old man, lost in thought. 

"Wolf, I ain't gonna kill ya." Your eyes darted towards his. He set up his fishing rod and you did the same. 

Twenty or so minutes passed before he spoke again. 

"You care about him?" Hosea's voice was starling in the near silence. You raised your head and turned towards him. He stared back at you expectantly. The 'him' was obvious. You chewed the inside of your lip and frowned. 

"He's been hurt before, Wolf. If ya ain't serious, don't string him along." You reeled in your rod and started to collapse it. "He really cares about you, anyone with eyes can see it." 

You let out a deep sigh and your eyebrows knit together. You didn't want Arthur, such a good man, to be infatuated with you. He deserved so much better. 

"After you came back from that job, the one where your horse died, and you stayed in your tent. Arthur was moping around camp. He barely ate and watched your tent flaps any moment he let himself idle. You can't deny that, Wolf." You shook your head and whistled for Deimos. The horse came trotting down the shoreline and you ignored Hosea's eyes boring into the back of your head. 

"Don't you hurt him, Wolf. He can't take another one." You squeezed your eyes shut and pulled yourself into Deimos' saddle. Hosea silently pleaded with you and you let out a sigh. You had your suspicions. Of course, you did, but it had still been a surprise. You weren't ready for that conversation, one that you couldn't even answer in the dark of your own tent. 

For all his kindness, Hosea Matthews knew how to be just as unkind. 

You trotted away on Deimos' back. 

The saddle was worn, having been on five horses since it fell into your hands. Their initials were engraved on the side, a newly carved 'R' alongside a 'P.B.', 'K', and 'L'. Pretty Boy, King, and Lady. They were all good steeds. 

Pretty Boy had been another Thoroughbred that you stole off a man outside a bar in Arizona, how you got the saddle in the first place. The horse had an appaloosa coat, admittedly, that was part of the reason you stole him in the first place. Stealing him had earned you a beating, and nearly a lynching. The horse, tied up in the woods, hadn't been found, so you were able to keep your prize. The horse had gotten you into New Mexico and been tragically bitten by a snake. You thanked the stars that night that you were close to a town. 

King was a Dutch Warmblood. The dark horse had been another you stole, that time from an outlaw that drank himself under the table in New Mexico. You undid his tack, leaving it where he once stood, and rode him towards the small camp you left behind. Once there, you set upon examining the horse. He was a beauty. Black coat with flecks of gold. You hadn't thought hard when naming him. It was obvious that the horse was an expensive one. Though, you doubted that his previous owner had acquired the horse legally. King had been regal. He was a powerful horse, that walked with surprising grace. He had been a good steed, until he was shot out from underneath you. Charles had saved you that day, swooping in and pulling you onto his horse. He had accompanied you back to your dead horse and when you went to buy a new one. 

Lady had been the only horse you had ever acquired legally. She had been a Nokota that you bought off a trainer. Lady was a good horse, strong and fast. She took well to your worn-in saddle and only bucked you once, on account of a snake. She had traveled with you, making her way across the country. On occasion, you had caught Charles braiding her hair and whispering words to her. 

He was different then, you both were. Despite being in a gang, it wasn't the same as Dutch's. It was just a business arrangement. One that could go tits-up at any moment. So, it was best to keep a scowl pinned to your face and an exit in mind. 

Lady had followed, ever diligent as your group disbanded. She had never put up much of a fight when you moved around. Despite all the trainer's work, she had a wild spirit. You hadn't minded, you preferred it actually. When you moved on, it was necessity. She had twisted her ankle on a job and you couldn't have a lame horse, not when you had just joined up with a gang again. So, you took her to the stable and sold her. You had gotten six dollars for her. Originally, you had planned to spend the money you got from her on a new horse, but the distinct lack of funds left you with other options. 

You did what you had always done. You found a bar and waited until nightfall. The men inside were too drunk to care, and the lack of them outside provided the perfect opportunity. Rusher, a pretty white and grey thoroughbred, had put up a fight while you were removing the tack. You panicked and rode through the countryside without a saddle, only to be thrown from the horse. He had put up a fight, but was no match for a couple of sugar cubes from your pocket. Once you had calmed him down you rode him back into camp and fixed your bridle around his face. 

Deimos. Deimos was a good horse. He was different, maybe it was being caught in the wild, but you didn't mind it. He was smart and knew his way back to camp even when you didn't. 

"Wolf," Arthur called to you from the hitching post. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth and slipped from Deimos' saddle. The horse nudged his nose against you until you retrieved a handful of oats. "Heard you went out with Hosea." 

You didn't respond, eyes fixed on Deimos. 

A beat of silence passed. 

Then two. 

"How'd it go?" You slowly inhaled and frowned at him. You, you didn't really know. Hosea was, he was good at his job. Reading people and digging the blade in you up to the hilt. 

"What'd he say?" You hadn't spoken, not since Rusher. Maybe you didn't want to now, especially since Hosea forced you to see something you didn't want to. Something you wanted to deny and ignore for as long as you could. 

You undid Deimos' tack and started towards the main fire. 

You could feel his presence behind you. 

He wouldn't pressure you to answer, not in camp.


End file.
